


Senior Year

by orphan_account



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, But also senior year love, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Giving them some emotional healing, Kippen Siblings, M/M, Road Trips, Sibling Bonding, Slowburn friends to lovers and all that jazz, senior year blues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-09-05 21:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A stranger in the park. A road trip with his two closest friends. A summer fling and a million secrets all culminate in the last summer before Cyrus Goodman's senior year.ORHow the last two weeks of summer taught Cyrus more about life than the last three years of high school.





	1. Forever Young

Cyrus Goodman tapped his pencil absentmindedly to the beat of the song lazily drifting from his desktop speakers. He had gotten a new iPod for his seventeenth birthday and hadn’t hesitated to fill it with all of his favorites. There were a few classics, like Elvis, and some Bee Gees albums that he kept hidden for fear of incessant mockery by his friends, but most of it was filled with recent pop. That afternoon he had found himself particularly immersed in Colbie Caillat. Something about her sweet lyrics and gentle voice flooded him with a sense of blissful euphoria that reminded him of being a little kid. When he closed his eyes he was transported back to a world of sticky fingers and sidewalk chalk, where nothing mattered, and life seemed so exciting.  


The summer of 2008 had hit him like a truck. Somehow, everything changed while simultaneously staying the same. He was still a teenager, but he didn’t feel like one anymore. He had his same group of friends, but the bonds had shifted. He had no responsibilities, and yet he had his entire future riding on the productivity of the first semester of his last year in high school. Everyone had told him that this was going to be the easiest year. When he had tearfully bid his senior friends goodbye at their graduation, they told him not to worry, senior year would be a breeze. It would be his favorite year of high school. To get through the misery that was junior year, he kept the same mantra in his head: _This is your last real year. Get through this year and you’re home free_. Back in sophomore year all he wanted was to grow up and get the hell out of Shadyside. As a freshman he looked forward to all the memories and experiences he would have in high school. But now as a senior, he looked back and realized he never had those experiences, was terrified of leaving, and was, in fact, not yet home free. The thought that his last high school summer was almost finished loomed over his head like a dark cloud, washing away any of the joy the aggressive Utah sunset was attempting to beat into him.  


Besides the beat of the song, the house was completely silent. Both of his parents had left that night to go visit his aunt in Florida. Neither of them would tell him anything about it, except that he’d be home alone for the next week. The silence made the room feel empty, even though that was far from the case. There were at least three shelves filled two layers deep with books, a dresser piled high with knick-knacks and memorabilia, a double bed right smack in the middle… He even had a few bean bags placed in the corner nearby a small tv where he used to have movie nights with his friends.  


His friends… He missed them so much. It had been so long since the home phone lit up with Buffy or Andi’s numbers. All summer both had become entirely tied up with their boys. The one time he did receive a call from them was when Andi needed someone to play therapist for her and Jonah. And he did. He didn’t blame them. If he had a boyfriend–  


_Nope_. He paused his thoughts right there. _Not going down that rabbit hole again_. Every time that he started up that train of thought it led right back to his least favorite place: self-pity, and self-pity usually turned into self-loathing. He missed it back in sophomore year when he could spend hours on end just mindlessly gushing with Andi and Buffy about crushes. There was so much hope and bright-eyed excitement whenever the subject of boys wound its way into their conversations. They would giggle and complain about how dense and oblivious they were, but ultimately always find themselves forgiving of every flaw. As they got older the conversation came up less and less with time, and both Andi and Buffy actually found themselves in a situation where they were able to pursue their romantic interests, whereas Cyrus was left behind to watch his fall in love with someone else. Sometimes he would lay awake at night and curse Utah as a state. If he were somewhere like New York or California maybe he could find someone out and proud and ready to date. But here in Utah, with Mormons knocking on their door every other day, anyone who was even the slightest bit queer shoved themselves deep inside the closet. And de didn’t have anything against Mormons – Jonah was a Mormon and one of the most delightful, accepting rays of sunshine around – it was more that being not only (as far as he was aware) the only gay kid, but also one of the only Jewish kids around was lonely. Really, really lonely.  


Oh, there it was: the self-pity, he knew it was around there somewhere. He sunk down and spun himself around in his chair, staring idly up at the ceiling. When he was little he had spent an hour with his mom sticking little glow-in-the-dark stars up there. He was so proud. In eighth grade, he had somehow gotten it into his head that _“he was a man now”_ and _“men don’t put glow in the dark stars on their ceiling”_, so he tore them all down and threw them away. Right now, as the sun crept down behind the mountains and darkness began to seep in, he wished they were still there. 

_____

TJ sat in his driveway watching the sunset, tossing a basketball frustratedly between his two hands. That morning he had rolled out of bed at about six, shoved a toothbrush in his mouth, and stepped outside to get a breath of morning air before work. However, as he stood there he sensed something off about the driveway. He squinted, scanning for the culprit and trying to blink away the morning blur. Then he saw it. Or rather, didn’t see it. With a groan, he stumbled back inside and dialed his mom on the home phone, something she would have been very pleased by. She was incredibly proud that they had finally ditched their old landline, and now liked to brag to every disinterested visitor that they had a brand new wireless phone, always failing to mentioned that it had terrible connection and couldn't sustain a call for more than five minutes without major issues. He sloppily punched in her number and took a deep breath as he was greeted with the dial tone. While he waited, he began digging through the fridge for something to eat. It was pretty empty with the exception of a carton of milk and some apples. _Maybe she’s out getting groceries?_ He scoffed at the thought. _Yeah right._ He snagged an apple and went to bite into it when his mom finally picked up.  


“Hey! Who is this?”  


“It’s TJ, Mom. Who else would be calling from the house phone?”  


“Of course, of course,” she laughed, her voice a little raspier than usual. “Aren’t you so happy we have a wireless now?”  


“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, trying to let the morning agitation seep out of his voice before responding. “Mom where are you?”  


“Oh, um… I’m getting—“ her words became garbled by static.  


“What?” TJ pulled the phone away from his ear, smacking it in an attempt to keep the connection. “I lost that, sorry. What are you getting?”  


“GROCERIES!”  


“Oh,” He was surprised, and also a little guilty about his lack of faith earlier. “Thanks for doing that.”  


“Of course, I’m your mom!”  


“Yeah…”  


There was a moment of silence filled only by the rough static of the phone. TJ lightly scuffed his foot against the wooden floor as he ruminated on how to ask his next question.  


“Is there anything else? I’m a little busy.”  


“Yeah, actually… Where’s the basketball hoop?”  


Her voice suddenly muted, and TJ became worried they had lost connection again.  


“Hello? Mom, you still there?”  


“Yes! Sorry, I… Um…” he heard her shuffling the phone around through the speaker. “I gave it to the Johnsons, down the block. Their son just turned eleven and I thought he might want it.”  


“Oh.”  


“Sorry, I didn't think you'd mind... You’re probably getting a little old for that silly thing anyways!”  


“Yeah. I guess I am.”  


“I knew you’d agree, sweetie. Is that all? I really need to get going.” More like the connection was going to die.  


“Yeah, Mom. That’s everything.”  


“Okay, sweetheart. I love you!”  


“I love–” The dial tone cut off his last words. With a groan of frustration he slammed the phone back into the stand and slid down to sit on the floor. He felt like a little kid, curled up and hugging his legs. A part of him was furious that his mom didn’t even discuss it with him, another part of him felt selfish for wanting to keep something he didn’t need. But most of him just felt empty in a weird, gloomy sort of way. His mom was right, he was getting too old to still use a driveway basketball hoop. He had access to better ones at the school. _But,_ he argued back to himself, _That one was special._ And it’s true. It was special. That was the one his dad had bought him when he made the basketball team in sixth grade. That was the one he and his dad had spent hours practicing free throws on every afternoon. That was the one where he spent all day shooting hoops while his dad and mom were inside screaming at each other. Whether or not it still served a practical use, it held a lot of personal value that he just didn’t have with anything else. He felt his face growing hot and realized he was on the verge of tears. TJ stood up immediately and marched over to the sink to splash some water on his face. One thing he was not about to do was cry over a stupid basketball hoop from sixth grade. And so he didn’t. Instead he ate his apple, threw on an old hoodie and a pair of jeans, combed some gel through his hair, and hopped on his bike to go to work.  


Work was on the far side of Shadyside. To say far side was probably to paint a false image, considering all of the town could be toured thoroughly in about 30 minutes. By “far side” the residents of Shadyside were referring to the area furthest from the residential lots, where the commercial side of the town lay. What this meant for TJ was that he had to pass every single home of every single Shadyside resident before reaching work. As he rode past, he took into account the way that the white, freshly painted, cookie-cutter homes seemed to slowly deteriorate with distance. The ones closest to his own home were pristinely painted with lush, green lawns and gardens overflowing with neatly tended flowers. A few more blocks and he noticed paint starting to chip off of the sides of buildings, caving steps, yellowing grasses. Further on and the homes looked sunken in, exhausted from so many years of hard life with no rest. The cute, yellow curtains of his neighbors' homes soon became mangled blinds and broken, empty shutters, and once again he was hit with the reality of the financial situation within the town. Shadyside used to thrive on small, family owned businesses, but as more and more corporations moved into the state, jobs began to suffer. Within a year, a third of the old shops had turned over and unemployment skyrocketed.  


One of his most vivid memories was when his mother came home in tears after her last shift. She had become the manager at a local boutique called “Cloud Ten,” one of the most beloved places in Shadyside. Apparently she and the store’s owner had gotten into an argument about selling and closing, and things got out of control. The sight of his mom, usually so cheerful and put-together, coming through the door pale and stone-faced, before slamming down her apron and just collapsing into choking sobs rattled him to the bone. It was probably the last time he had seen his father act tenderly toward her. He just held her close against his chest, and ran his fingers gently through her hair._ “It’s going to be okay,”_ he kept whispering, rocking her softly._ “It’s going to be okay.”_ Standing there, watching from the stairway, TJ had never felt so absolutely helpless before.  


Something bolted across TJ’s path, tearing him abruptly out of his memories. He immediately slammed his hands down on the brakes and jerked the handles to the right, managing to just barely miss whatever it was. As his bike skidded to a stop, he whipped around to face his mysterious offender: a mangy, mottled tabby cat. The furry perpetrator leapt up onto the sidewalk and glared, hissing and growling and arching as though irritated. TJ leaned wearily forward on his bike, heaving and glaring back, wanting nothing more than to grab it by its matted tail and chuck it into the bush. Instead he flipped it off and placed a frustrated foot back onto the pedals, continuing his commute, simply more sweaty than before. He took a deep breath, trying to relieve some of the adrenaline pumping through his veins, slowly regaining control of his shaky hands. For the last three years he had been trying not to think about everything happening. He remembered so many friends moving at the end of junior high, getting out before things got any worse. He had avoided saying goodbye at all costs out of fear of crying in front of them. His family insisted they stick it out, that they could survive. _"Shadyside is our home. It’s always been our home, we’re not giving up."_ He wished they would. Money took the forefront of so many issues in their home. At least when his sister was home it was easier to ignore them. She’d just knock on his door and shake her keys, and they’d sneak out together. He missed her so much. It had been almost six months since she left for university, and after about three weeks she just stopped calling. Maybe that’s why his mom bought the new phone – maybe she thought if the connection was better she’d start again. But the connection wasn’t any better, and the phone never rang.  


He pedaled on, the sun’s rays starting to beat down on him as the early morning breeze dissipated. Slowly, the decrepit houses began to grow closer together, and eventually the sidewalks became smoothly paved and the cramped residential windows slowly morphed into large, welcoming shop windows. Finally, the commercial section. At the end of the road was his workplace. He brought his bike to a smooth stop and swung his leg around the back. After locking it securely to the rack, he sauntered up the two concrete steps and peered in through the glass of Rise and Shine Bakery. His manager was already inside, wiping down the counters and starting up the machines. Gently, TJ pushed open the door and stepped through, being greeted by the jingle of the bell and the warm, comforting scent of freshly baked bread.  


Work made TJ feel content. He didn’t mind getting there early to open, or staying late to close, or any of the other inconveniences that came up daily. There was something satisfying in the routine. Perhaps the most satisfying thing being that he was away from home. The bakery was quiet, it was filled with good smells and happy people. The hours passed there was the best of his day, and all he wanted was to stay in the perfect, serene bubble that was The Rise and Shine Bakery. But, everyday the clock hit seven, and his manager told him to start cleaning up. 

As he flipped the door sign to say “closed” and gathered his things to go, TJ was hit with the sinking feeling of remembering he had to go home. That his dad would be downstairs, and his mom would be back after shopping, and they were either going to ignore each other or antagonize each other, and he didn’t know which one he hated more. For a moment he considered just staying at the bakery overnight, sleeping in the storage closet and pretending he had just gotten there early the next morning. But he knew that wasn’t an option, so begrudgingly he climbed onto his bike and began making his way back to his perfectly painted, cookie cutter home, where he found his parents at each others’ throats over something his mom had done that morning. TJ hadn’t said anything, he had just walked inside, set down his things, and marched immediately back out. They didn’t even notice.  


And that’s how he found himself watching the sunset, tossing his basketball back and forth between his hands. Nothing felt right. Watching the sky turn from pale blue, to pink, to orange sent a pang of nostalgia creeping down TJ’s chest, and he achingly looked over to the side of the driveway where a black skid mark left a rude reminder of his now-donated basketball hoop. It was like the more he looked at it, the more it seemed to taunt him. His mind was jumping between his parents and the skid mark, both feeling more and more consuming with each passing second.  


_That’s enough._ He pushed himself to his feet. _I’m not gonna wallow like this anymore._  


So he stood up, grabbed his basketball, and took off for the park. This time, he was not going to be helpless.

_____

It was almost completely dark, any semblance of the orange sunset being covered by an inky purple dusk. Some of the stars were starting to show their faces from behind the clouds that floated nonchalantly across the evening sky. Cyrus kicked at the wood chips surrounding his swing with one dangling leg, using his other one as a resting place for his chin. He closed his eyes, taking in the muggy scent of the park at night. It wasn’t the most pleasant smell, but it was a sentimental one. In that moment he felt truly peaceful, and assuming the park was empty, he softly began singing out the tune that had been stuck in his head all day.  


_“It starts in my toes, and I crinkle my nose, where ever it goes I always know, that you make me smile, please, stay for a while now…”_  


“Nice song.”  


Cyrus started, making the chain of the swing chatter loudly. He whipped his head around wildly, blinking like a maniac to try and make out the owner of the voice in the growing darkness.  


“Who’s there?” he whimpered, voice shaking with fright. “I have a weapon!” That was a lie, but he was not about to lose his life in a park singing _Bubbly._  


“Whoa, calm down, man. I was just complimenting you.”  


Cyrus heard the stranger make their way to the adjacent swing, and flop down with a sigh. His heart was still pounding from the startle, and his hands were shaky as they gripped the swing. Cyrus mustered as much courage as he could and managed to squeak out, “Who are you?”  


“Does it matter?”  


“Yes. You’re a stranger at night in a park. That’s super sketchy.”  


“Okay, well to me you’re also a stranger, at night, in a park.”  


“Well, I–” he stammered, trying to come up with some kind of clever retort. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” _Nope. That was not it._  


The stranger scoffed. “What are you, five?”  


“No, I’m seventeen.”  


“Oh, seriously? Same.”  


Cyrus was taken aback, he thought he knew every other teen in Shadyside, and yet this was not a voice he recognized. It wasn't a bad voice, not by a long shot. Despite a snarky tone, it had an honest flair, and a shy quality. It was softer than he would have expected, especially for another guy his age. The owner glued the ends of his words together like he was mumbling, but there was something endearing about it. No, he would remember this voice. His curiosity was piqued, and against all his years of “Stranger Danger” training, he chose to continue talking to this new person. Maybe something would spark his memory.  


“You don’t happen to go to Grant, do you?”  


“I’ve been there three years. I’m a senior in, like, two weeks.”  


“No way.”  


“Yes way.”  


“Okay, how do I not know you then?”  


The voice laughed back, “Sorry, do you seriously think you know the voice of every single person that goes to Grant?”  


“What!? No, yours is just special. Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, no it’s just… and I–” Cyrus was getting flustered. “I’m just… I thought I knew everyone in our graduating class at least.” His face was burning red. _Why am I acting like this!?_  


“Guess you were wrong. Or at least you’re bad at recognizing voices.”  


He sat for a moment in absolute dumbfounded silence. Who was this random person, claiming to be a teenager, wandering around in a park at night judging him? What was it about this stranger that made him lose all ability to think straight? Just as he was about to open his mouth, the stranger spoke again.  


“Why are you in a park at night?”  


“Uh, I don’t really know. I guess… I was feeling nostalgic?” Cyrus put his face in his hands, trying to conceal his embarrassment that was definitely already invisible in the darkness. “Sorry, that sounds so stupid.”  


“No, it doesn’t.” The chains squeaked softly as the stranger rocked himself on the swing. “I was feeling nostalgic, too.”  


“Really?” Cyrus looked up from between his fingers, feeling his heart rate quicken. “Why?”  


“Now that’s actually stupid.”  


“I bet it’s not.”  


“It is.”  


“Well, even if it is, I’ll still listen.”  


The stranger paused, contemplating. “Promise you won’t laugh?”  


“Promise.”  


“Okay,” he took a deep breath. “My mom decided to donate this old basketball hoop we’ve had for like, six years. And I don’t even use it anymore, but I guess it was just her reasoning behind getting rid of it, like the ‘oh, you’re too old for it’ speech. A part of me feels super good about growing up and all that, but another part of me felt like ‘damn, I don’t want to get older.’ So yeah, I took my basketball here and went to shoot some hoops in a park like when I was little, but I guess I’m a dumbass and forgot it gets dark at night.” He paused for a second to breathe, and Cyrus could swear he could see him blushing. “Told you it was stupid.”  


Cyrus felt a little smile creep across his face. “No, it’s not. I feel the exact same way." The smile broke into a full, goofy grin. "I thought I was the only one.”  


“Guess we’re not as alone as we think.”  


“I guess not.” Cyrus found himself staring directly at the silhouetted figure next to him. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, but still he couldn’t distinguish much beyond long legs and slightly fluffy hair. There had to be some way to figure out his identity. “So, you go to Grant?”  


“Yeah, I think we already talked about that.”  


“I have no idea who you are.”  


“I think we already talked about that, too.”  


“That was my roundabout way of getting you to tell me your name without any more guessing.”  


The stranger sat in silence and watched him. For a moment he looked like he was about to respond, but then he stood up and started to wander away.  


“Hey,” Cyrus called out. “What are you doing?”  


The stranger stopped and turned back toward him. Cyrus could just barely make out that he was tall, and was now leaning against the chain of the swing-set. “Keeping you guessing.” he responded, matter-of-factly.  


“What?” Cyrus felt himself growing infuriated. “Why?”  


“Something fun about a mystery.”  


And with that, the stranger sauntered off, leaving Cyrus alone and completely baffled. And, as his heart's sudden swell indicated, completely enthralled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Thank you so much for reading! This is multi-chaptered, I've got it all planned out, I just don't know how to change the little chapter number yet (I apologize for my incompetency). A lot of this is based on the things going on in my life right now (I actually started my senior year a few days ago), and I set it in 2008 because that nostalgia's really hitting right about now asdkfjsdkfj hope you enjoyed! :)


	2. Idle Town

Cyrus left the park shortly after the stranger did. Being alone, outdoors, in the middle of the night seemed like the perfect set-up to get eaten by a bear. Not that a bear had ever been spotted in Shadyside, but he could never be too careful.

As he trudged home, hands in pockets, he tried to clear his mind of all that had just happened. He wanted so badly to know who the stranger was, but knew that any thought about him would be a distraction from more important tasks, like college applications. There were only two weeks left before school started, and Cyrus needed to make them productive. He had it all planned out. As soon as he got home he was going to take two melatonins, crawl into bed, set his alarm, and fall deeply asleep. Then, at seven he would get up, make his bed, brush his teeth, and eat a balanced breakfast before sitting down and slamming out the most immaculate essay known to the Ivy League.

None of that ended up happening. Rather, after returning home he crawled into bed, only to find himself unable to sleep. His body was home, but his mind was racing, as was his heart, back to the stranger in the park. Deciding wasn't going to just lay there, he rolled out of bed and wandered over to his computer. The bright screen flooded his bedroom with light, stunning him momentarily. After blinking away the spots in his vision, he found himself scrolling endlessly through Facebook and Twitter, trying to find any clue as to the identity of his mystery person. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to go on, and his eyelids were growing heavy. He passed out at his desk some time around two. When his alarm went off he hit snooze, staggered over to his bed and slept another three hours. After waking up for the second time, he slumped his way out of the covers and stumbled into the kitchen. He opened up the fridge, then the freezer, unsure of what to eat. Then he found it: a pint of Haagen-Dazs chocolate-chip ice cream. He cradled it protectively in his hands and collected a bowl and spoon from the cabinet. Making his way to the breakfast table, he became aware of how overly alert all his senses were. Every minuscule noise – the clink of his spoon against the bowl, the creaking of his chair – sounded deafening in the empty house. His eyes stung at the slightest ray of sunshine reflected off the countertops. Even the ice cream tasted sickeningly sweet on his dry tongue.

Cyrus rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up. He was always exhausted, no matter how much he slept or how much caffeine he consumed. That’s another thing he missed about being a kid: energy. He had hoped once summer started he could recapture that, but he still woke up every day feeling like he got run over by a train.

However, today’s “tired” was different. It wasn’t due to a physical exhaustion – he felt emotionally worn. Last night, he had his first dream in months that didn’t morph into a nightmare or devolve into some kind of anxiety attack. It was a really good dream, one that he never wanted to wake up from. He had been on a park bench with a guy his age, talking and laughing, about what he wasn't exactly sure. The guy was handsome, funny, and had a voice so beautiful it put shame to the songbirds. And he was incredibly familiar. Just when he was about to ask for his name, the alarm clock pulled him away. Unfortunately, even when he fell back asleep, he wasn’t able to conjure up the same scenario, and his handsome stranger seemed to be lost forever. It was like a breakup for a relationship that never happened. He wallowed in his bowl of ice cream, deciding today would be a self-pity day.

_BRIING BRIIIING. BRING BRIIIING._

Ah, the beautiful screams of the home phone... He ignored it, assuming it was just a sales call. After a minute, the ringing stopped, and Cyrus gleefully returned to his ice cream. Then it started up again.

_BRIING BRIIIING. BRING BRIIIING._

"Whyyyyy?” Cyrus whined, pushing himself out of his chair. The phone was on the second story. These salespeople were really gonna get it. If he had to walk up a flight of stairs to shut them up, then they were going to receive a Cyrus Goodman smackdown. Or a lecture. Probably just a lecture. However, before he even reached the staircase, a sentence stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Call from: Andi, Mack,” the phone sang out from across the house. “Call from: Andi, Mack.”

Andi? Cyrus's mind went blank. She hadn’t called all summer, why now? It had to be an emergency. He raced across the house, taking the steps two at a time, snatching the phone from its stand and punching “talk” without stopping to catch his breath.

“Andi,” he wheezed. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Do you need an ambulance–”

“Whoa, Cyrus, calm down,” Andi cut through his panic. Cyrus paused for a moment, trying to listen in over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. There were no screams of anguish, no sounds of fire or flood in the background. He just heard her laughing in her usual, spritely way. “I'm at home, nothing, and why would I need an ambulance?”

“You… Uh, just haven’t called in a while. I assumed there was an emergency,” Cyrus cleared his throat, realizing he had overreacted. “Sorry…”

“Cyrus,” her voice softened. “Don't apologize. I shouldn't have gone radio-silent all summer.”

“You were busy,” he shrugged. He had started to shuffle back down the stairs to his ice cream, and turned her onto speaker-mode. “You’re on speaker now, but don’t worry, no one’s home.”

“What do you mean no one’s home? Where are your parents?”

“Florida, I think? I don’t really know, they just kinda left.”

“They what!? Have you been alone this whole time?” Andi was starting to raise her voice again. Cyrus caught himself almost shushing her out of pure instinct."Why didn't you say anything?"

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he responded. "You were having fun with Jonah."

"Cyrus," she whispered. "I'm never too busy for you. Is that really how you've been feeling?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Yes it is! God, I can't believe I let my stupid relationship get in the way again!"

Cyrus paused, listening to her as she grew more and more emotional.

"I'm so sorry," she continued. "You've always been such an amazing person, and here I am being the worst friend on the planet. I'm so, so sorry, and–"

"Apology accepted," he cut her off, grinning.

“…What?”

”I know you, remember? You just get hyper-focused whenever you start a new project. And Jonah Beck is a pretty big project.” He paused to hear her laugh. “I’m not mad, I just missed you."

"I missed you, too," she whispered.

"Well then," he cheered. "Now that we're best friends again, what do you want to do?"

“Hm... I've actually been thinking,” Andi hummed. “How about a road trip? The Good Hair Crew, American college tour? If you're willing to forgive Buffy that is... She feels just as awful as I do.”

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow, confused. "How do you know that?"

"I, uh–"

"Is she in the room with you right now?"

"I can't answer that."

"Well then,” he smirked. “I’ll forgive her... If she lets me drive the car."

"Which car?"

"You know which car."

There was a squeak followed by the sound of muffled struggling through the phone, and something that was definitely Buffy being hit with a pillow.

"She's fine with it."

Buffy and Andi pulled up to his house two hours later in a shiny, baby-blue convertible. Buffy was behind the wheel in a zip-up jacket and a pair of beat up jeans, engrossed in some kind of rant that required both hands. Andi was relaxing in the passenger’s seat, feet on the dashboard, donning an old jean skirt and bright yellow Paramore tee. Cyrus unlocked his bedroom window and stuck his head out, waving enthusiastically. Buffy motioned for him to come down, to which Cyrus responded by pointing behind him to his overstuffed luggage and stuck out his bottom lip pleadingly. Buffy rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated huff, toothy grin still smeared across her face. A minute later, Cyrus heard a knock on his bedroom door. When he threw it open and found Buffy standing there, he didn’t hesitate to practically jump on her. They were squealing and giggling and bouncing around like over-sugared toddlers. The only thing that tore them apart was the _“ahem”_ let out by Andi as she watched the scene, arms crossed.

“Where’s my hug?” She whined.

“Andi!” Cyrus pushed past Buffy and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. His voice caught in his throat, and he was barely able to whisper, “I’ve missed you guys so much.”

“Aw, don’t get all sappy on me,” Buffy groaned, before wiggling back in for another hug.

“We’ve missed you, too,” Andi murmured, face pressed into his shoulder.

With all three of them, standing there in one big hug, it felt as though no time had passed. After they pulled apart, Cyrus skipped back into his room and stood next to his bags.

“Dearest Knight Buffy, would you please carry my bags for me?”

“Of course, Prince Cyrus.” She bowed before attempting and failing to heave his suitcase off the bed. She stared dumbfounded at the unmoving mass.

“What the hell did you put in here? A dead body?”

“Well,” he smirked. “I couldn't give a live one to the slayer.”

Buffy rolled her eyes so hard she almost pulled a muscle.

“I did not miss your awful 'jokes',” she muttered.

“I know you love them.”

She shot him one more glare. Then, she hoisted the suitcase off the bed and began to trudge down the stairs. Andi giggled and followed, grabbing Cyrus’s hand as she led him out of his own house. The three of them made their procession out the front door, already starting to gossip about their summer antics, and for the first time in a while Cyrus felt completely and totally contented. No matter how much time passed, theirs’ was a bond that wouldn’t fade.

“So,” he clapped his hands together. “Where are we headed first?”

“Chicago!” Andi shouted, throwing her hands into the air. “I wanted to check out the Art Institute. Then, we were thinking of heading out to the northeast to see the Ivies for you, and finishing up along the coast for basketball schools. What do you think?”

Cyrus smiled. "I think this is gonna be the road trip of a lifetime."

_____

TJ was already behind the wheel, still hours left until he reached Nebraska, his first stop. He had turned up the radio to full blast, trying to fight off the drowsiness that came from lack of sleep and hours of driving. His palms were sweating as he gripped the steering wheel, car hurtling down I-80.

Not long after he had left the park the night before, he was woken up by the ringing of the stupid, stupid home phone. No one else was answering, so he wandered downstairs to where it sat in its stand, lit up and singing. He snatched up the phone, about to slam it back into the holder to shut it up when he heard a voice whimper through the speaker.

“TJ? TJ, is that you?”

He froze. That voice was unmistakeable. _No way_, he thought. _No way_. He gripped the phone tightly, trying to process what he was hearing. Warily, he placed the phone to his ear and whispered, “Amber?”

“TJ!” The voice broke out immediately. It was definitely her. “Oh my God, TJ…” Her voice was weak. Sharp breaths stung his ears through the speaker.

“Amber, what’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” she was babbling. “I messed up, I messed up so bad. I’m sorry…”

“Amber, I’m going to go get Mom, don’t–”

“NO!” She screamed. TJ yanked the phone away from his ear. “No, don’t get Mom. I can’t tell her. Please, please just come here.”

TJ was completely paralyzed. His mind was racing in a million different directions and he couldn’t seem to get one thought to stay long enough to process it. In his house, with no sound beyond his sister’s distorted sobs, the air felt heavy and unbreathable. Pure instinct started to take control, and without giving himself time to think twice, he said, “Okay,” and ran out the door.

There weren’t many cars on the road, mostly just large trucks with far too many wheels and precariously stacked objects hooked to their trailers. He had only stopped twice for gas, refusing to eat or drink anything until he reached the hotel. He wanted to get off the road as soon as possible – driving stressed him out way too much. There were so many aspects to it that he could never seem to perform correctly. He had already accumulated a few tickets from either going too fast or too slow, and every time he changed lanes it was too close and he’d get honked or cursed at. It wasn’t even intentional, he just didn’t realize he was doing it.

Two hours passed, and TJ began to feel the effect of not eating all day. He tried to ignore it, but there wasn’t much else to think about and after a while it became unbearable. Cursing his human body, he pulled off the interstate and onto a narrow feeder road, scanning for somewhere he could eat fast. There wasn’t time for something sit-down. He passed block after block of grey and white buildings, almost all closed offices and family businesses.

“Does Wyoming have no fucking McDonald’s?” he muttered, looking endlessly across the empty horizon and finally giving up, opting for a small diner instead. After pulling into the lot, he hesitated; it had been a long time since he’d had to eat in a restaurant alone. He couldn't think of any specific reason, he just didn't. He put the car into park and slammed the door on his way out in an attempt to release some of the tension building in his muscles. With every step closer to the entrance, the commotion inside grew louder, and he considered crawling back to his car and just eating a pack of gum instead. No, he stopped himself. I’m not going to be a coward about this. He took a deep breath, preparing for the worst, and stepped through the door.

Immediately he was confronted with the pungent odor of fried food. The floor was both sticky and slick, coated with rain and mud and spilled sodas. It felt a hundred degrees hotter inside, and he felt beads of sweat start to form on the back of his neck. The racket of the restaurant was barely below painful. But it wasn't like he could leave. He had made a decision, and if there was one thing TJ was, it was stubborn. Out of pure survival instinct, he put on his tough-guy guise and strode up to the hostess.

“Hey,” he spoke cooly.

“Hey,” she spoke back. Her eyes were looking him up and down disapprovingly.

It struck him that he never changed out of his pajamas before leaving his house that morning. He glanced down at his attire and became incredibly aware of how trashed he probably looked. He cleared his throat, confidence beginning to falter.

“Um, could I have a table?”

“How many?”

“Just me.”

“Alright,” she grabbed a single menu and took one more long look at him. “Follow me.” The diner wasn’t huge, but weaving a way through the mess of people was a challenge on its own. He found himself in awe of how smoothly she moved between tables and chairs, avoiding every outstretched leg and overenthusiastic gesture with ease. Finally, they reached a small booth in the back corner, about as secluded as you could get in the zoo of an eatery. The hostess handed him his menu and left, almost instantly replaced by a waitress in a green dress and tiny paper hat. She watched him intently.

“I’ll need a second.”

“Okay,” she responded, unmoving.

Feeling incredibly unnerved, TJ took a single glance at the menu and ordered the first thing he saw: chicken strips. The waitress refused to break eye contact with him the entire time, and even after she collected his menu he caught her watching him from across the room. TJ tried to interest himself in anything else, eventually resigning to tearing apart his straw wrapper.

“Hey.”

TJ’s head snapped up. He looked around, expecting to see a person standing in front of him, and was puzzled when he found no one there.

“Hey,” it sounded again, and this time it tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around, coming face-to-face with a pale, skinny brunette, with a cheery expression and warm, coffee-colored eyes. He was seated across from two equally cheerful girls.

“Um, hey,” TJ replied. “Can I help you?”

One of the girls, the one with short hair and a Paramore T-shirt, piped up, “You looked lonely."

"Yeah," her curly-haired friend chimed in. "Do you wanna sit with us? We have an extra seat.”

TJ contemplated. The logical side of his brain told him not to; he had absolutely no clue who these people were. But, the teenage-boy-side told him that he was really bored and anything would be better than his stupid straw wrapper. He figured that inviting random strangers to sit with you was probably just Wyoming culture, so he joined them over at their table. The boy with the pretty brown eyes gestured at his seat, and TJ scooted in, making sure to keep a reasonable distance between them.

The two girls almost immediately resumed conversation, one of them rambling on ecstatically about her boyfriend. He didn’t quite catch the name, though. The boy flashed him a brief smile and stealthily slid a napkin over to him. TJ raised an eyebrow, puzzled. The boy’s eyes flitted back and forth between the napkin and TJ, indicating he wanted him to look at it. He leaned over to take a peek, and realized that the boy had written him a note.

_Hi, I’m Cyrus. Sorry, my friends can be a lot, but I promise they’re really cool._

TJ smiled, and stretched out his hand to signal the other to pass him the pen. The boy, whose name was apparently Cyrus, sneakily rolled it across the plastic booth seat into TJ’s grasp. TJ thanked him with a little nod, and scribbled back, _Cool. I’m TJ. Your friends seem nice, and slid the napkin back over to Cyrus._

“What are you so happy about?” The curly-haired girl had noticed the dopey grin on Cyrus’s face.

“What, I’m not… I–” Cyrus fumbled with his words, and TJ slapped a hand over his mouth to suppress a snort. It was cute. Then, like a saving-grace for poor, stumbling Cyrus, the waitress came over with food for the trio.

“The burger is Buffy’s,” Cyrus pointed to the curly-haired girl. “The pasta is for Andi…” he gestured over to the short-haired one. “And I’m the taters!” He finished with pride. When he smiled, TJ noticed how his eyes crinkled up like a puppy’s. TJ couldn’t help the quirk of his mouth, and touched a hand to his cheek, suddenly aware of the color starting to creep in. He shoved his face into his hand and leaned his elbow on the table in a way that felt like it was going to be smooth, and absolutely was not. He got a side-eye from Buffy, but she soon seemed to forget it and reabsorb herself into the conversation.

The waitress returned shortly with TJ’s tray, still eyeing with him with a feline intensity. He was reminded of the cat that he almost ran over on his bike the day before. The day before...

_Oh shit._

He remembered why he was at the diner, and immediately began shoveling the food into his mouth. It tasted like the best thing on the planet, probably because he hadn’t eaten at all that day, but he didn’t have time to savor it. As he gulped down his soda, he became aware of the trio watching him.

“Wow, someone was hungry,” Buffy remarked. TJ licked his fingers and nodded, trying to wave down the waitress. Of course, she was already waiting for him. She made her way over quickly, bouncing a little as she walked, and set down the check with a wink. TJ gave her a curt nod, and upon opening the check, found she had scribbled her number at the bottom.

“Oooh, looks like you have an admirer,” Cyrus whistled.

TJ frowned, “She’s not really my type.” Buffy and Andi jumped in with some kind of commentary, but TJ wasn’t paying any attention. He was looking down at the total on the bill, and fiddling with the money in his wallet.

“Something wrong?” Buffy asked. TJ looked up and realized how long he had been staring at it.

“No, I uh,” he felt his chest constrict as anxiety started to build. “I’m just, making sure she didn’t add something wrong.”

“Okay,” Buffy and Andi exchanged a look. Cyrus peered over at the check, making him even more tense.

“It doesn’t look like it,” Cyrus murmured, eyebrows furrowed, and gave TJ a confused look.

“Cool, great,” TJ let out a nervous laugh. The din of the restaurant seemed to fade over the deafening awkwardness of the situation. 

_Just do SOMETHING and LEAVE . _

He pulled out a twenty from his wallet and placed it on top of the check. As the waitress came back over to collect it, TJ gave her a polite wave and said, “Keep the change.”

Her eyes widened and she stared back at him, mouth agape.

“Thank you so much,” she chirped, and practically skipped back to her station.

“Well that was nice of you,” Buffy said, eyes narrowed.

“Guess I’m a nice guy,” TJ slid out of the booth, gripping his wallet in whitening knuckles. “Gotta go, it was cool meeting you guys.” Without another word, he bolted out the doors of the diner. It was now pouring, but he didn’t care. As he unlocked his car and threw himself inside, he let out a noise that could not be entirely classed as human. His hands were shaking again, and his breathing had gone shallow. Now he remembered why never ate out alone: Money. It was like his mind was filled with tv static every time he looked at it. He knew naming-wise what each bill was, but he couldn’t put them together, and he never knew which ones to use for the numbers that dotted the check. When he had placed down that twenty he didn’t have a single clue whether or not that would cover the whole thing. It had always been like that, and he had no idea what was wrong with him.

He glanced over at the time on his dashboard. He knew was that it was getting dark, and the GPS said that he still had more to go tonight. There wasn’t any more time to waste, Amber needed him. Jaw set, he threw the car into reverse, and drove onto the endless interstate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one!  
I am strongly against the theory that Cyrus would be thriving at this point in high school, as from experience every junior that went hard at school became a mess over summer – it's culture.  
Also, the Wyoming thing is a true story. When looking for a McDonald's, we discovered there are apparently only three in the whole state, and none of them are off the interstate. The more you know.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry if there are any funky phrases, I wrote this during insomnia hours (it's gay culture) :)


	3. Dear

Taylor Swift was blasting through the car radio as Buffy and Andi talked loudly in the front seats. Cyrus was only partially listening – he was more focused on the scenery gliding by. It had been raining earlier, so Buffy had rolled up the top of the convertible. Seeing everything through glass was a little different, a little warped.

“What would you do, Cyrus?”

His eyes snapped back to the interior of the convertible. He realized the interjection came from Andi, who was turned around in the passenger seat, staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry,” he shook his head. “I zoned out. What are we talking about?”

Buffy let out an aggravated huff. “Metcalf sent me an email saying I wasn’t allowed to keep Kira off the team anymore.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, apparently it ‘violates the school’s open extracurricular policy’ or some crap like that.”  
“I bet her mom complained to the board,” Andi muttered, fuming. “Her stupid PTA parents were always sticking their noses into everything, even back at Jefferson.”

“At least we only have to deal with them one more year,” Cyrus smiled weakly, trying to find something to lighten the girls’ stormy expressions. “You not at all.” He gestured over to Andi, who turned back around and crossed her arms.

“It just blows… Whydid she have to reappear from whatever hole she crawled into our _senior year?_” Buffy groaned, slamming on the horn as some pick up truck tried to change lanes way too close. “Watch it, buddy!”

“At least you don’t have to deal with all the stupid preppy art school kids.” Andi chimed in. “They think just because they’ve had all these classes and professional lessons that they’re somehow better than me. Please, I got just as far without all that.”

The two resumed their chatter, griping and moaning about every inconvenience they were going to find that year at their respective schools. Cyrus silently went to look out the window again, only to realize that the sun had set and the scenery had faded behind a curtain of shadow. Streetlights lit up the gray asphalt, and just barely through the misty night he could make out a sign reading _“WELCOME TO NEBRASKA.”_

“Guys look!” Cyrus pointed excitedly. The two girls turned and saw with widening eyes. They looked at each other for a moment before breaking out into cheers.

_“NEBRASKA! NEBRASKA! NEBRASKA!”_

“The good life!” Cyrus finished, repeating the tag line that wove along the emerald green sign.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a small motel. It was definitely not one of the prettier sights they had seen that day. The paint was beginning to chip away along the corners of the buildings, leaving a moldy, exposed brick pattern that had been vandalized with assortments of slurs and lewd imagery. The railings that lined the second story were crooked and rusty, their poles beginning to bend outward as if trying to run away from the seedy building they were attached to. The sectioned off dirt patches that should have held flowers were instead covered with dead grass and muddy, litter-filled puddles. At least the fluorescent lights of the motel sign out front gave some semblance of color to the gray and brown misery before them. Even then, the neon letters that were meant to say _“THE GARY MILAN MOTEL” _were beginning to blink out, so that from where they were standing it read _“HE GAY MAN MOTEL.”_

“Hey,” Buffy nudged Cyrus in the ribs, pointing at the flickering display. “It’s you.”

Cyrus snorted, and waved a hand up at the sky. “I guess t’was fate!”

“It’s the Universe,” Andi laughed.

_

The curtains were not nearly thick enough to block out the moonlight that danced across the walls of TJ’s motel room. He had been tossing and turning all night, but couldn’t seem to stop thinking long enough to fall asleep. He needed to sleep because he needed to drive. If he didn’t sleep, he couldn’t drive, and he couldn’t see Amber. And the more he thought about sleeping the more frustrated he became that he couldn’t sleep, and the less sleepy he felt.

Frustrated, he sat up in the creaky bed, rubbing his eyes and muttering a detached stream of curses. He needed to get up and move around – anything to take his mind off of his sister. He rolled the covers off of his body and swiped his room key off of the bedside table. After staring confusedly at the incredibly blurry door, he realized that he had taken out, and apparently also thrown away, his contacts. And trying to find your glasses in the dark, while sleepy and also irritable was not time well spent. Grumbling and blurry-eyed, he unlocked his door and wandered out of the room onto the second-floor landing. He leaned against the railing and stared out at the Nebraskan night. Even without his glasses, he could tell how beautiful of a night it was. The moon was reflecting off of the shiny hoods of parked cars, and the air was fresh and silent with the exception of lazy jazz drifting in from a bar across the road. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to take in as much as he could – the dewy smell of fresh rain on the pavement, the cool railing under his palms, the taste of diet soda still lingering on his lips.

TJ sat down on the wooden bench that was placed neatly next to his door. The night felt so simple, and pure, and so… Romantic, in a sense. But not a passionate romance, just a true and sweet one.

The sound of a clicking lock alerted him to the person now standing by him on the landing. TJ should have stood and retreated, but weariness kept him in place. He observed his new company, watching as they fumbled in an attempt to lock the door behind them.

“Hey,” he spoke. The other jumped, apparently unaware of his presence, and dropped their keys. They immediately also dropped to the ground, frantically patting the concrete in an attempt to find them.

“Hey,” TJ repeated, rising slowly from the bench. He walked over next to the person, hands in pockets. They didn’t look up at him, in fact they appeared to actively be avoiding looking at him. “Do you need some help, or something?” He asked, crouching down next to them. The person shook their head forcefully, and continued patting around.

“You’re not gonna find them just slapping the ground like that,” TJ said. “I think my room has a flashlight, just wait here a sec.” TJ went back into his room, eyes still blurry, and opened the bedside drawer. Sure enough, there was a flashlight rolling around next to a Bible and a set of matches. An odd combination, but he wasn’t going to question it. He snatched it up and clicked it on and off a few times to test if it worked. He shuffled back over to where the person was still on hands and knees looking for the keys. TJ clicked the flashlight on and shone it on the ground. Immediately, the metal keys gleamed back at them, starkly positioned against the foot of the bench. He scooped them off the ground and jangled them lightly.

“Found ‘em,” he smirked.

“Thanks,” the other rose off the ground shakily and gently plucked them out of TJ’s grasp. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it, man. I lose things a lot.” TJ watched from the bench as the other person returned to jamming the keys into the door, trying to lock it and failing. Over. And over. And over.

“Do you need help?” TJ started back toward him.

“Nope,” the stranger squeaked, and jammed the key at the lock again. And, he dropped them. “Yes,” he muttered, putting his head into his hands. TJ felt a tug at the corner of his mouth as he walked over and picked the keys off the ground again.

“I’m so sorry,” the stranger said as TJ easily placed the key in the lock. “There’s a whole list of easy stuff that I should be able to do by now but can’t. This may be one of the more embarrassing ones.”

TJ scoffed. “If locking a door is the most embarrassing thing to you, then you’re in pretty good shape.”

“Not really. I’m really pathetic.”

“Doubt it.”

“You would be shocked.”

“Wanna bet?” TJ started to feel that goofy, buzzed feeling he got when he was drinking a little too much. “What can’t you do?”

“Well, I can’t do a somersault.”

“Nope, not embarrassing. Plenty of people are unathletic.”

“In the lunch line I was too scared of the other students to get the muffin I wanted.”

“High schoolers suck,” TJ shrugged. “Not your fault.”

“I can’t ride a skateboard–” he began, intensely.

“Okay,” TJ interrupted. “Those are seriously not that bad. I promise you my list is way worse.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Okay,” TJ thought for a second. “I can’t use a map.”

“What?”

“I can’t use a map to figure out where I’m going. Navigation is a no-go.”

“I mean, maps can be labyrinthine.”

“Okay, also,” TJ laughed. “Words like that? Can’t use ‘em. Or write ‘em, my handwriting is awful.”

“So are most guys’, you’re not that bad either,” Cyrus quipped. TJ could tell he was feeling the same lightheartedness.

“Oh yeah? Yesterday, I was at a diner and I couldn’t figure out what the price of the meal was so I just dumped a bunch of random cash on the waitress and left.”

The stranger went silent. TJ felt his face go red, suddenly regretting sharing that bit of information.

“Um, yeah,” he scuffed his shoe against the concrete. They stood there, neither saying a word, TJ wanting to curl up inside of himself and die.

Finally the other broke through the silence.

“You’re that guy,” he said, voice close to a whisper.

“Um, what?”

“You’re the guy that my friends and I met at the diner in Wyoming,” he repeated, this time more loudly, more certainly. “You were picking a straw wrapper and we told you to come sit with us."

TJ took a step back, baffled. Without his glasses he hadn’t been able to fully make out who this person was, but now looking at him, there was no mistaking that this was Cyrus, the kid from the diner. Just as he opened his mouth, Cyrus spoke again.

“And you’re also the guy from the park that I talked to two nights ago.”

TJ’s eyes were the size of golfballs. _What the hell? _He had absolutely no idea what to say, so he just stood there, mouth agape, shining the full blast of the flashlight onto this person, Cyrus, who two seconds ago he assumed was a complete stranger.

“Are you shitting me?” Those were the only words he could think to say. “I thought that whole ‘recognizing voices’ thing was bullshit, are you kidding me right now?” He turned around and jammed his hands into his forehead, unable to completely process what was going on. This random kid from his SCHOOL was for some reason in the middle of Nebraska, in the room next to him, and for the second time he had made a complete ass of himself. Fantastic.

“Hey, breathe,” Cyrus was suddenly right next to him, hand lightly placed on his shoulder. “Why are you freaking out about this?”

TJ paused in his panic to look over at Cyrus, whose concerned eyes were sparkling shyly in the combined light of the moon and the flashlight. When they were this close, he didn’t need his glasses to see how pretty they were.

“I just,” he started. “I dunno, I guess I’m not used to talking about my stuff with strangers.”

“Well, we’re not strangers technically. We’ve met each other three times now,” Cyrus responded, trying to be helpful.

“That almost makes it worse,” TJ groaned. He plopped down onto the wooden bench and stared at the ground. “Now you know me, and all the stupid personal stuff I’ve told you.”

“It’s not stupid,” Cyrus gingerly set himself down on the bench next to him. “The stuff you told me mattered to you, so it’s important. And you have embarrassing stuff to associate with me, too.”

TJ took his eyes off the ground to look at Cyrus. His lips were quirked into a funny sort of half-smile, his eyes doing the crinkly thing they did at the diner. A navy blue t-shirt hung loosely off of his small frame, and checkered pajama pants almost completely hid his socked feet, now curled up under himself as he hugged his knees on the bench.

Cyrus continued, “I can keep telling you embarrassing things about myself if it’ll make you feel better?”

TJ let out a wheezy laugh. “Why don’t you tell me something good about yourself instead?”

Cyrus stared at him blankly. “I can’t really think of any.”

“Oh come on,” TJ whispered. “There’s gotta be something you like about yourself.”

“Not really.”

TJ listened to Cyrus’s breathing, hearing how shallow and quick they came. He wondered how often he had sat in his own room and beat himself up like that. How lonely he felt then and how not lonely he felt around Cyrus.

“Another easy thing I can’t do is sleep. That’s why I’m out here,” Cyrus whispered.

“Okay then,” TJ said, voice dropping low and soft. “Then you’re going to relax, and I’ll list them.”

“You barely know me.”

“Yeah, but like you said, we’re not strangers anymore. Just, close your eyes, and I’ll talk.”

Cyrus watched him for a moment before nodding and leaning back against the bench. TJ watched with a smile as he let his eyes close softly. He took a deep breath in.

“Let’s see, you’re a really good listener.”

“I’m just bad at talking.”

“New rule. You can’t put yourself down while I’m complimenting you.”

“But–” Cyrus started, but TJ shushed him, continuing.

“You seem pretty smart, and you’re still humble about it. You’re also nice to waiters, which is cool. You dress cool, and your hair is dope, and… When I met you in the park you were nervous, but you trusted me pretty quick. And…” He paused for a moment, pondering his next words. “You’ve got a really pretty voice.” He watched Cyrus, who seemed to be listening less and less with every sentence. His breaths were coming in slowly, each deeper, more peaceful than the last.

“When you were singing to yourself in the park. You had a pretty voice.” His eyes were transfixed on Cyrus’s small figure, curled up on the bench next to him. He was hardly aware of the words coming out of his mouth. “And when you smile, your eyes do this crinkly thing. It’s cute. You’re… You’re cute.”

There wasn’t any response. Cyrus was asleep, and TJ was happy with that. At that moment, everything was at ease, and everything felt in unison, breaths rising and falling together with the cool breeze in the Nebraskan sky.

_

When Cyrus woke up, the world around him was bathed in a pink-orange glow of early morning. He cupped a hand over his eyes and gazed over at the horizon, where the sun was barely creeping over the treeless plains. As he turned to look beside him, he realized he was alone. TJ must have left at some point after he had fallen asleep. He tried to stand up, but found himself completely stiff from the night spent on the hard-bench. His muscles were achey, and his back was sore, but yet somehow, he was completely energized.

_You’re cute._

That’s what TJ had said to him last night. He was almost completely asleep when he heard it, but he was absolutely sure it was said. Cyrus stretched, a huge yawn escaping his lips. He probably hadn’t slept much, considering he left his room pretty late and the sun was now just barely rising. Finally, he decided he had to actually put some effort into standing, and pushed himself up, wobbling haphazardly as his full weight came onto his feet. Once he was entirely assured he would not fall, he found himself facing the bench again, only this time he became aware of the little note sitting on it, next to a ziplocked breakfast muffin and his room key. He picked up the note and tried to read it.

“_I hate you luke I a man FU."_

_ What the heck? _Cyrus held the note closer, squinting against the sunlight now pouring in from behind him.

“_I hope you like lemon. - TJ.”_

_ Oh, that makes more sense. _TJ was right, he had awful handwriting. Cyrus grinned goofily at the note, and then at the muffin. It was definitely not the prettiest thing, a muffin in a ziplock bag, but it was charming in a way. He looked at his room key and sighed, realizing he would now have to unlock the door by himself. It was okay though, he wasn’t the only one with stuff. Cyrus turned back to look at the sky, the sun now drifting higher and higher above the horizon, his thoughts turning back to the not-so-mysterious stranger that wasn’t a stranger anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a little shorter than the last few, I got backed up with school work, but I wanted to make sure I still updated! I hope you guys liked this one. I tried to keep it fluffy since the next few are gonna be a little rough aslfjdslkf anyways, please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed! :)


	4. Hey Jude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mentions of alcoholism/depression
> 
> Sorry this took so long... But, I'm back!!

There was a distinct smell to TJ’s car. It wasn’t musty or overpowering like you’d expect the eight-year-old used car of a teenage boy to smell. It had a slight pleasantness to it, something sweet and minty, and overall very comforting. TJ had always attributed it to the small air freshener Amber had placed over the vents, which now served as a constant nag out of the corner of his eye that his sister was in some kind of trouble. He wasn’t too far from Illinois now. Iowa was a decently sized state, but he was already half-way through it. Feeling sleepiness start to creep in over his mind, he turned on the radio, fumbling around with the dials while trying to keep his eyes on the road. If there were a single other car around he may have been more cautious, but luckily the Iowa interstate was completely absent of anything beyond the asphalt and the four doors of TJ’s car. The radio was overcome with static at the moment, so TJ grumpily punched the CD button, silently praying he had left something in the disk drive. A few seconds later, “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles filled the air, and TJ relaxed back into the seat, hands resting lazily at the bottom of the wheel. He hummed along, letting his thoughts wander slightly as he stared across at the seemingly endless road.

Cyrus entered his mind. That morning, while Cyrus was still asleep, TJ had stolen back into his room and found one of the muffins he had stuffed in his bag when he had left. It was a leftover from work, something a little sloppy that they didn’t want to sell, but also didn’t want to waste. The muffin tasted fine, more than fine – TJ was a pretty exceptional baker, not that he offered that fact up often – it was just a little rough around the edges. He had wanted to scribble out a note, something that came across cool, but also humorous. Unfortunately his 5 AM brain was not willing to aid him in his efforts, so he just wrote something probably stupid and definitely not funny. And probably illegible. Cyrus probably thought he was weird. Not that that should matter, because he’d never see him again.

_Wait._

No, they’d definitely see each other again. Duh, same school. TJ’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as he remembered their conversation with an embarrassed clarity. There was something inviting about Cyrus, something that somehow had broken down all the little barriers inside TJ’s mind and gotten him to open up. And similarly how easily Cyrus had opened up to him. Maybe that was just what he was like, maybe Cyrus was the most open book in all of Shadyside. Or maybe he was something special. TJ wanted to be something special. He wasn’t exactly sure _why_, but he did.

_

Buffy had her feet up on the dashboard, Cyrus now in charge of the driving. Much to the chagrin of his two friends, he had insisted that they roll up the convertible top and close up all the windows for fear of terrifying, flying bugs coming for him at seventy miles per hour. Because Buffy had taken the passenger seat, Andi was given backseat control of the music selection and now a wonderful assortment of 2000s emo now filled their ears. Andi was drumming her fingers against Cyrus’s headrest, despite his protests, a toothy grin plastered across her face.

“So…” she began. Cyrus groaned at the giggle that escaped her lips, already knowing where this was going. “How was your night?”  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on,” Buffy snorted. “We know you snuck out.”

“I left, like, right before you guys woke up,” he lied, fingers tightening around the wheel.

“Yeah right,” both girls said in unison. Cyrus rolled his eyes, checking his mirrors and catching Andi’s mischievous glint in the rearview. His mind wandered to the glove compartment, where he had hastily shoved TJ’s squished muffin before the girls had seen. Immediately, his heart quickened in pace and his stomach decided to try a triple flip. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts of the night (or morning, he supposed) he spent with TJ. Unfortunately, the empty Iowa interstate offered little distraction to Buffy and Andi, and their incessant questioning continued on. If he wasn’t driving, Cyrus would have squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his head against the nearest window. Then, the saving grace of a cell phone ping pulled him from his misery. He heard Andi let out a groan.

“Ugh, Jonah,” she grumbled, rubbing her temples.

“What happened this time?” Buffy asked, already sounding irritated.

“He just… He can just…” Andi trailed off, clutching her phone in a shaking fist. “God, I can’t believe how insensitive he’s being!”

Cyrus tried to keep his eyes on the road, all too familiar with this conversation. Andi and Jonah were like the couple that needed to stop trying. They had an on-again-off-again relationship since seventh grade, and even during their “on-again” phases they were always bickering.

Buffy had reached her hand out behind her seat and was letting Andi squeeze all her frustrations into it. Andi’s other hand was furiously typing back into her phone, fiery eyes locked onto the glowing screen. Cyrus and Buffy shot a glance at each other. She gave him a knowing grimace, and they both turned their eyes back to the road.

After a suffocating silence, Andi stuffed her phone back into her purse and slumped against the seat with a huff.

“Sorry guys,” she whimpered. Her voice was choked, and Cyrus wanted nothing more than to get out of his seat and just scoop her into a big hug. “I just… I don’t know what to do with him sometimes.” Neither did Buffy or Cyrus. In a brief moment of silent understanding, Cyrus pulled the car over to the shoulder, and Buffy clambered out of the passenger seat, slipping into the back next to Andi. Gently, she pulled Andi’s head onto her shoulder and placed a steady hand over Andi’s shaking one. Cyrus slid in on the other side of Andi and took her other hand in his own, giving it a loving squeeze. Together they sat there, gazing at the golden sun, sitting lazily above the waving fields of amber grasses and pink flowers, and knew that it was going to be okay.

_

There it was, the tall, white brick walls of Amber’s dorm. They loomed over TJ as he brushed a stray hair out of his face, beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. He quietly prayed a thank you to the universe for the lack of any kind of gate or security around the university, although he knew that was probably not the best in any other situation. He took a nervous glance around. There wasn’t much of a chance anyone would jump him on the quad of a small-town university, but it was still nighttime, and he still didn’t trust a single person in this world outside of his sister. And maybe Cyrus. Maybe.

He began to trek up the steps, all the urgency of the previous nights beginning to weigh on each footfall, making it harder and harder to get to that front door. Finally, he reached the landing, where the metal doors stood like watch-guards, staring him down. TJ gingerly pushed them open, muscles screaming with tension. If anyone saw him, they would definitely think he was some kind of creep, sneaking into the girl’s dorm in the middle of the night.

The common room was pathetic, to say the least. The only decorations were a tv that looked like it came straight from the 80s sitting in front of a lopsided and coffee-stained table, along with a browning, raggedy loveseat. He shuddered at the though of sitting on it, all the diseases of universe likely hiding in between the cushions. The linoleum under his shoes was slick and greasy, like the tiles of that Wyoming diner from the night before.

TJ started making his way down the narrow hallways. The doors were decorated with cute paper signs that read the names of the girls that occupied the room. He scanned with squinted eyes, searching for Amber’s signature, loopy handwriting. He passed door after door of Lily’s and Mary’s and Bethany’s, all kinds of frilly and fluffy designs crossing the empty thresholds. With every passing combination he grew more and more anxious, his palms sweating inside his hoodie pockets. Then, finally, he saw it.

_Amber and Riley_.

The delicate loops and the heart that formed “Amber” were followed by graffiti-style block lettering from her roommate, who was apparently named “Riley”. The contrast was a little jarring, but TJ hoped Amber got along with her. If she had a nightmare roommate, there was no way the school year would end without some kind of atomic-level blowout. Then again, Amber herself might be the nightmare roommate. He let himself have that small laugh before refocusing on the situation. How to get into the room…

He could just knock? _Yeah, just knock._ Without giving himself a second to think, TJ reached out and rapped twice on the door. And waited.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ he realized as he stood there. _It’s a girl’s dorm. _For a moment, he considered ducking back out the front, but it was definitely too late now because the lock was clicking and the handle was turning and _oh God_ the door was opening…

“Yeah?”

The voice came from a tall, dark-haired girl with a million piercings and gray eyes that cut right through your soul. Riley. TJ stood frozen in the doorway, looking her up and down and feeling more than a little intimidated.

“Hello,” he responded, internally kicking himself. “Is Amber here?”

“Amber?” Her eyebrow quirked up. “What do you want with Amber?”

“Um,” TJ cleared his throat, eyes darting from floor to ceiling, and back again in an attempt to avoid Riley’s glare. “She’s my sister.”

Riley stood there silently, examining him with pointed intensity. Then, as the tension began to border on unbearable, she stepped back and opened up the door to reveal their room. She gestured inwardly, letting TJ know he was free to enter. TJ responded with a polite nod, and took a tentative step onto the wooden floor that differentiated the dorm from the halls.

He looked around, gazing at the cream-colored walls, and the orange, plastic chairs behind crooked desks. A few paintings lined the walls, which TJ supposed belonged to Riley, along with pictures of a family that _definitely_ belonged to Riley. Amber’s side of the room was almost completely empty of anything personal, except her clothes and books, which were strewn about the floor in complete disarray. While Riley’s side was neat and organized, Amber’s was full of unwashed dishes, wrappers to various food items, and piles and piles of laundry. On the table next to her bed, there was a lonely, beat-up lamp, and a blue teddy bear with the words “For You” written across its chest. In the bed itself was a mess of sheets, all wrapped around a single bundle, which TJ immediately knew was his sister. He looked over at Riley, who was watching him with a knowing gaze.

TJ carefully made his way over to the bed, and sat down at the edge, staring at the unmoving mass. Gingerly, he set his hand down on top of the blankets, and shook awake the girl that was underneath them.

“Amber,” he whispered. “Amber, it’s me, TJ. I’m here now.”

The bundle of sheets rustled, and gently, a face pulled its way out from underneath, green eyes puffy and sore, nose rubbed red from tissues and tears. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and TJ saw her soften and fold. A weak sob escaped between her chapped lips, and TJ immediately reached out and pulled her into a tight hug. He ran his fingers through her long, tangled hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

_

“And basically he doesn’t think it’s ‘that big of a deal’ if he doesn’t show up,” Andi huffed. They had gotten back on the road about ten minutes ago and she had finally worked up the composure to explain the situation with Jonah.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was,” Andi sighed, and hit the blinker to pass a slow driver. Somehow she had convinced both Buffy and Cyrus that letting her drive would allow her to calm down, but in the ten minutes she was behind the wheel she had only seemed to grow more and more upset. Not in the teary-eyed, angry way as before, but more in a forlorn, numb kind of way. From the passenger seat, Cyrus set a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she gave it a slight squeeze of gratitude.

“It’s a really big deal to your family,” Cyrus offered. “He knows that, and he’s still not prioritizing you.”

“Again!” Buffy added.

“But, what if I’m just blowing this up?” Andi said, voice dropped.

“What?”

“What if… What if he’s right, and it’s not a big deal?”

“Andi,” Cyrus started. “It’s Cece’s one year celebration of remission. You guys almost lost her. Of _course_ it’s a big deal.”

“I hate this,” Andi shook her head. “I hate how he always makes me doubt myself. And it’s not even his fault, we’re just…” she trailed off.

“Just too different?” Cyrus finished for her.

“Yeah. Just too different.”

The car drifted into silence as they approached the state lines. This time, as they crossed into Illinois, there wasn’t any cheering or celebrating. There was just a wordless appreciation of how far they had come together, and how far they still had to go.

Chicago was about an hour away from where they stopped, but all three of them had reached a point of emotional exhaustion where food had become an absolute necessity. And by food, they meant FOOD. Food with substance beyond the salt and cheese provided by their family-sized bag of Doritos. Along the way, Andi had spotted a sign reading out “Welcome to Deery! Home is where the Heart is!” And the trio had decided unanimously that _that_ was where they needed to be. Without hesitation, they pulled off onto the feeder and found themselves along a bumpy, narrow road lined with towering trees. Every time they hit a bump, they all let out an exaggerated scream, often followed by giggles as Cyrus narrated the journey in an Australian accent. By the time they actually entered Deery, the three were so overcome with giddiness that Andi had to pull over to avoid causing an accident.

Buffy was in stitches, her hands clutching her sides as tears of laughter rolled down the sides of her face. Cyrus had a hand slapped over his mouth, and Andi had her head pressed against the steering wheel, holding it in the grip of two hands shaking with giggles. Just as they were beginning to calm down, Andi’s head bumped the horn and startled a stray cat prowling past, and all three collapsed right back into their hysterics.

“Okay, okay,” Buffy finally broke through, still swallowing gulps of air to calm herself. “I’m seriously starving.”

They all clambered out of the car, wheezy and lightheaded, but now on a mission. Buffy led the charge, Andi behind her and Cyrus bringing up the rear, as they hungrily scoured each and every sign for a place to eat. Buffy then came to a complete halt, startling both Andi and Cyrus as they collided into her, gazing in the direction of her outstretched hand.

“There,” she said. Their eyes all fell on a cute red-brick building with two striped canopies and dainty, ornate windows.

_BIG BETTY’S SINGING CAFÉ._

“Yes,” Cyrus replied, simply.

Within the second, the trio had taken off running like wild dogs for the doors of the restaurant. Buffy swung them open and stepped inside. The smell of delicious, freshly baked bread, roasted coffee, and peppermint hit them immediately, swallowing them up into a beautiful dream of sweet desserts and savory dinners, of salty side dishes and spicy entrees.

“This is perfect,” Andi swooned, gazing up at the menu. She pulled them into her sides for a triple hug. “I love you guys.”

Cyrus set his head on her shoulder. “We love you too.”

_

After half an hour of gentle coaxing, TJ had finally convinced Amber to get out of the covers. Seeing her, hair greasy and matted, pajamas wrinkled and tear-stained, it was abundantly clear she hadn’t left the bed much in the last week. She sat statuesquely still, staring blankly at the floor. TJ set a hand on her leg.

“Amber,” he started. “What’s going on?”

She sniffled, and began wringing her hands the way she always did when she was little. He could see her try to smile, try to give him some kind of reassurance, but it slipped off her face as quickly as it formed.

“I…” she started, voice choked. She took a shaky breath, eyes refusing to meet TJ’s.

“Amber, you can tell me anything.”

Amber looked up and past TJ, at where Riley was standing. Silently, Riley excused herself from the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Amber cleared her throat and blinked away more tears. She took a shuddering breath, looking as though she would pass out at any moment. Then, she spoke in a small, barely audible voice.

“I drank again.”

TJ blinked. _She drank. _The thought haunted him, wrapping its hands around his throat and squeezing out all the air. _It had only been a year since Amber sobered up, since she had gotten her token. _

“When?” He asked.

“At a party. There was this guy, and he offered it, and I just… I tried so hard, but I took it and for that night I just forgot everything and I felt so numb… And then I regretted it. I regretted it so much.” Tears broke out of the corners of her eyes and onto the sheets between them. “TJ, I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?”  
“I can’t do _this,_” she gestured out at the dorm surrounding her. “Being away. All the pressure from everyone…”

“Then come home,” TJ said, taking her hands. Amber shook her head, blond hair coming unstuck from its tangles and falling over her shoulders.

“I can’t. I can’t go home after all I’ve put you guys through.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cutting you off, not calling,” she whispered. “God, I’m such a screwup.” She fell forward at him, pressing her face into the folds of his hoodie.

TJ ran his fingers through her hair, heart aching at her muffled sobs. Finally, he pulled her up and held her face in between his hands, looking directly into her eyes.

“I’m gonna say something, and you’re gonna listen, okay?” His tone was hard, but his eyes were soft. Amber nodded. “You are _not _a screwup. What you’re going through, it’s not your fault. You’re going to get through it, and you’re going to get better, and I’m going to be there with you every step of the way. There’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive, Amber. I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Now,” he said, relinquishing his grasp and standing up. “Why don’t we get you some _real_ food? I’m looking around the room, and I have to admit, I’m not that impressed by your selections.” Amber’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and she let out a small, hoarse laugh. And that? That was the first step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Wow, talk about late...! Sorry, I had this one halfway done and then life decided to pop up out of the blue and harass me for a bit. But, I'm back! :) Also, I promise we're about to get to the full heart of the TJ/Cyrus fluff, just gotta clear the angst forest first! Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you guys think!


	5. The One That I Want

There weren’t many places to eat on campus, so TJ and Amber elected to take a detour down onto Williams Street. It was a cute little avenue, with rows of eclectic buildings and murals decorating brick siding. Every single sign was hand-painted, every window with decorative shutters that showed off the loving care of its maker. A pang shot through TJ’s heart.

_It looks like old Shadyside._

Amber squeezed his hand, sensing his thoughts. He released some of the tension he didn’t realize he was holding and turned to look at her.

“So, where are we going?” He asked, looking up and down at all the various businesses around them. Nothing had seemed edible so far.

“There’s this place a couple of blocks this way,” she beamed. “I haven’t eaten there in a while, but I remember it being really good.”

TJ nodded. They continued the rest of their journey in a comfortable silence, holding hands and enjoying merely being in the presence of one another. TJ tried to take in the whole experience – the scuffing of his sneakers against the concrete, the smell of grass, freshly cut. The air was quiet, providing a respite from the bustle of the college campus. Very few people were out, which he was grateful for.

Amber stopped abruptly, causing TJ to stumble a bit as he was caught mid-stride. He turned to look at her, and followed her gaze to the red and white awning of a café.

“Big Betty’s Singing Café?” He wondered aloud. It fit in perfectly with the theme of the town, slightly retro and full of character. Before he could press her for answers, she pulled him inside.

A bell jingled above the door, signaling their entrance. In contrast to the deserted outdoors, the café was lively and energetic. Waitresses in candy-striped dresses and white aprons delivered food between the kitchen and the customers, while a perky, cleanly-dressed boy staffed the counter. There was a jukebox in the corner blasting “Jailhouse Rock” while a tables of hungry college students ate away at every kind of food imaginable, from sandwiches and tater tots to cookies and milkshakes.

Amber shuffled over to the counter and peered up at the menu.

“What sounds good to you?” She asked.

“What’s good here?”

“Honestly, everything.” she twisted a loose strand from her ponytail around her finger. “But, I just really want a burger right now.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They ordered two burgers from the perky boy working the counter, whose name was apparently Kyle Teagan and whose major was apparently musical theatre.

“Does everyone here just… overshare?” TJ asked as they made their way over to a table. They slid into a booth that sat beneath a framed poster of Olivia Newton John and John Travolta in “Grease.”

“Oh yeah,” Amber laughed. “Everyone’s trying to break into the business, so they’re just trying to get their names out there.” She pointed up at the poster hanging above them.

“You remember that?”

“Yeah,” TJ smiled. “We saw it at that drive in after Mom blew up at Dad about the phone bill.”

“I think it was the water bill.”

“It was always something.”

Disturbing their pensive silence, a guitar riff and drum solo broke out over the loud speakers. The crowd burst into roars of applause. TJ whipped his head around in absolute confusion.

“What’s going on?”

Amber didn’t reply. Instead she pointed straight across the room to where a sturdy woman in six-inch block heels and a fluffy, cupcake dress was climbing atop a table. Gripped tightly between her ten sparkly, pink talons was a microphone decorated in rhinestones, with a cord that ran all the way across the restaurant.

“WELCOME,” she boomed. “TO BIG BETTY’S!” The crowd was roaring, slamming their fists against the tables and clapping wildly. TJ stared, mouth agape. The woman had a clear, deep voice, and a rather muscular frame. Along with that, her makeup was absolutely caked on, eyebrows placed far above their natural resting spot, eyeshadow blue and gold and glittery as ever. Her hair fell in large curls that bounced and shone with blinding shine as she swayed.

“Wow,” was all TJ could muster. Big Betty hopped off the table and began to make her way through the crowd.

“Now, darlings,” she began. There was something deviously seductive about her. The way she swung her hips, the way she winked at the boys and fluttered her ridiculously long lashes. “Tonight, is a very special night. Tonight, is August 25th, which is, as we all know, the day my bastard boyfriend walked out on me.”

Big Betty was now only a few tables away from him. She smelled of rich chocolate and lavender, which seemed to draw in every male in the vicinity. Which included TJ, which was strange, because… Obvious reasons.

“But, we’re not here to bitch and moan over breakups. No,” she took a deep and dramatic breath. “We’re here to celebrate love.” With that last word, the lights in the café dimmed into a deep rose, and a disco ball adorned with heart shaped reflectors spun into action.

“All the lovebirds, let me hear you sing!”

A large section of the café erupted in cheers, one of which seemed to consist of a bachelorette party for a Katy Jackson. Betty pointed out a young girl in the crowd, who seemed vaguely familiar.

“You there baby, tell me ‘bout your _lover_.”

The girl stood up with an incredible confidence, and leaned into the microphone that Betty had extended toward her.

“His name is Marty Young.”

“Oooh, Young. Sounds like a Mormon boy.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “We’re from Utah.”

_Hm, that’s funny,_ TJ thought.

“Utah! You’re a long way from your sweetheart then!” Betty shouted. The girl nodded with an exaggerated frown, a giggle still present behind it.

“How about you then?” Betty addressed the other girl sitting with her. The girl just shook her head, looking uncomfortable.

“He’s not exactly being a ‘sweetheart’. Sorry,” she muttered into the mic. Betty jumped back.

“Don’t apologize, dear! No, no, no!” She turned around to the rest of the audience. “I’m sure plenty of us know what it’s like to be treated wrong by a man.” The crowd nodded and sounded off in agreement. Betty took a seat on their table and leaned in close to the girl.

“Sometimes, you gotta think about yourself, darling.”

Finally, she swung around to the third person at the table, who TJ couldn’t quite see from where he was sitting.

“And how about you, dear? What kind of Mormon lover do you have awaiting you back in Oooo-Tah?”

Apparently, whoever they were, they didn’t have anything to say.

“Ah, a single man,” Betty sighed. “Young love… So hard to find nowadays.” She looked around at the crowd, and swung her arms into the air as she laid across their table. She rolled onto her stomach and kicked out her legs.

“All the lonely hearts, let me hear you sing!”

Much of the restaurant began to groan and cheer and yell.

“Yes!” She shouted. “Yes! Let out all that frustration!” Suddenly, Betty rolled off the table, landing perfectly atop her impossibly tall heels. She quickly began making her way in loops about all the tables, winking at all the singles who hollered in her direction. Then, she was in front of TJ and Amber, hand on her hips, lips puckered.

“You, handsome boy,” she began, smirk quirking at the corner of her lips. “You’ve been awfully quiet this evening.” TJ shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Are you a member of the lonely hearts club?” She mused.

TJ nodded slowly.

“Hm, well that just won’t do,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Who are you looking for? Ladies? Gents? Something in between?”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat and glanced around the restaurant. This really didn’t seem like a place where he would have to worry about judgement. “Gents, I guess.”

“Me too, darling.”

She said something else, but TJ wasn’t paying attention. He was fixated on her eyeshadow. It was so… Intense. The blues and the purples were glowing under the bright lights, arcing close to her comically high eyebrows which _couldn’t _be real…

“Well?”

“What?” TJ blinked. Betty was looking right into his eyes.

“I asked if you sing.”

“Um–”

“He does,” Amber interrupted. TJ shot her a panicked expression.

“Wonderful,” Betty’s lips curled into a smile. Despite his stammered protests, he was being pulled onto his feet and being led by the pink talons to an empty table where he was told to climb up, and where he found himself clutching the glittering microphone between his own trembling fingers. His eyes darted around until they found Amber, who was shooting him two emphatic thumbs up.

“Ladies, Gents, and Everyone Else,” Betty announced. “Let us welcome our first number of the night!” A guitar string was hit, and the band launched into a song.

_

Cyrus had no idea how he let Buffy and Andi talk him into standing on top of a table and singing karaoke. _Karaoke_. Also known as the number one mode of public humiliation. Between his two hands he clutched a glitzed-out microphone and stared blankly into the crowd of expectant onlookers. Fear flooded his senses. _What if I don’t know the song? Why did they do this to me? Why–_

His thoughts were cut off as the familiar intro filled his ears.

_Oh._

The fear drained from his veins and a glowing giddiness took its place. He knew this song by heart. He knew every song from “Grease” by heart. But, there was a problem.

_This was a duet. Who else is–_

_“I got chills, they’re multiplying,” _A voice sang. Cyrus jolted at the sound. He immediately glanced about the room for the source, eyes darting like dragonflies. Then he found it, on top of a table, in checkered pajama pants and a blue hoodie. Cyrus’s jaw hit the floor.

_It was_ _TJ._ _TJ was in a café, singing “You’re the One That I Want” in the middle of Nowhere, Illinois._

He could tell TJ had just noticed him as well, because he was now staring with eyes as wide as melons, voice wavering slightly. Cyrus stared back, brown eyes locked onto green, and without his approval, his mouth broke into a grin.

_“Cause the power you’re supplying, it’s electrifying,” _TJ managed, still seeming disconcerted. With a willpower he didn’t know he had, Cyrus gathered all his courage and lightly hopped from the table, landing just as his verse began.

_“You better shape up, ‘cause I need a man,”_ he slowly began to make his way across the room to where TJ still stood atop the table. _“And my heart is set on you.” _With each line, he felt his heartbeat grow faster, more intense. His hands were visibly shaking, sending small ripples through the microphone cord, but he ignored them. TJ’s eyes wouldn’t break from his. They were nervous, and TJ looked like he might shatter if someone touched him.

But the voice that joined him was anything but nervous.

_“You’re the one that I want,”_ they sang out, voices matching in perfect harmony. The rest of the crowd joined in, providing the “_oo-oo-oo’s” _and echoes. TJ’s singing was smooth, and when he switched notes it flipped with a quality that sent chills down Cyrus’s spine. The tiny vibrato that ended his belt, the breaks he used when the notes were too high… The components all swirled together in a colorful melody in his mind.

_“The one that I want!”_

And on the last drum beat, Cyrus was on top of the table next to TJ, their eyes still locked, noses nearly touching. Cyrus saw TJ’s eyes split for a moment to look down at his lips, which Cyrus bit in a spurt of nervousness.

“You have a really nice voice,” TJ whispered, his voice a little raspy from the singing.

“Um, thanks, your-yours… Yeah, you too,” he sputtered, and turned to hop down from the table. Unfortunately, his foot did not find the floor before his face did, and he landed with a hollow thud against the tile floor. A warm hand snuck its way under his and helped him stand. It was Big Betty, with her exaggerated makeup and permanent smirk. Her eyes narrowed, playfully.

“Looks like he just fell for you,” she winked. The audience burst into laughter, and Cyrus felt his face flush a shade of red deeper than the walls. “Give it up for our two performers!” The café roared in applause and cheers. Cyrus refused to look up at TJ, and quickly shuffled his way back to his spot with Buffy and Andi. He hid his face in his hands, refusing the comforting advances of his two friends. The last thing he needed was to be told _“it wasn’t that bad” _or something equally pitying. All Cyrus wanted was to hide away and forget that he had ever experienced that night.

“Hey.”

“What?” Cyrus snapped, looking up from his hands.

“Woah, sorry.”

Cyrus’s eyes fell on the muddy sneakers, then the checkered pajama pants, and the blue hoodie, and the…

_Oh no_.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, now TJ was standing in front of him, _talking_ to him.

“Funny running into you again,” he smirked. “The universe must really want us together.”

“Yeah,” Cyrus choked out, unable to meet his eyes. His mind was going more and more blank with every passing second. Then, he made his greatest mistake.

He looked at his face.

The light caught TJ in a devastatingly handsome way, reflecting the slight pinkness that danced across his cheekbones, and highlighting every faint freckle that decorated his perfectly proportioned nose. His eyes swam with the sparkling hints of emeralds bathing in sunlight, his lips a perfect rose that spread across his perfectly pale complexion.

Cyrus reached out to the table for support, hand slipping off of the slick surface and causing him to wobble slightly. TJ laid a steadying hand on his shoulder, and Cyrus felt a shiver flash through him.

“Dang, you’re really clumsy,” he laughed. But there was no malice in his voice. Cyrus giggled nervously, absolutely sure that his eyes were betraying every thought screaming through his mind.

“Add that to my list of awkward traits.”

“It’s not awkward, it’s cute.”

And before he even had the time to respond, TJ had taken his hand in his own and was scribbling something across it.

_801-555-6493._

A phone number.

“So we can stay in contact,” he smiled.

And with that, TJ turned on his heel and walked into the faceless crowd of the restaurant. Cyrus stood still, mouth agape, staring down at his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And 21 days later... Heyo! Hope you guys liked this chapter! It was kinda funky to write, but I thought it would be a fun break from the depresso-mode of the last one. Thank you so much for reading! Lemme know what you guys think!


	6. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the gap in uploading again... Now that it's break I'll try to upload more often :)  
CW: depression and vague suicidal ideation

The walk to the hotel was graciously silent, as was check in. The Miller Inn was a slightly nicer place than they had found in Nebraska. There was a double bed in the center with some clean-looking sheets, and a small rollaway tucked into the corner with a little square chocolate adorning the pillow. There was one window covered by blinds that were only minorly in need of replacement, and a single bathroom that appeared to have at least been swept.

Unfortunately for Cyrus, Andi and Buffy’s quiet escapade ended as soon as the door was shut. Before he even set down his bags, Andi grabbed his wrist and swung him onto the slightly-greying sheets of the rollaway bed. One hand still on his wrist, she and Buffy expertly positioned themselves on either side of him, blocking his exit points. Buffy snatched up the pillow – and the chocolate for that matter – stripping Cyrus of his only accessible weapon.

“Exactly how long have you had a thing with this guy?” Buffy prodded, eyes burning with a mixture of intrigue and betrayal. Cyrus played with his shirt collar, mulling over his next words. If he fully divulged everything up to this point, he may be led to a path of endless boy-talk. But, if he didn’t he would likely die via siege by his two best friends.

“Like a week or so?” Cyrus sighed, opting for the less dangerous of the two options. “I met him back in Shadyside.”

“Mhm. And now you meet again in the middle of nowhere?”

“Not exactly.”

“What?”

“He was also the same guy from the diner in Wyoming.”

“Wait–”

“And he was also staying at the same motel as us back in Nebraska.”

Andi and Buffy just stared, which was probably the most terrifying response they could have given. Buffy’s eyes were narrowed, Andi’s wide. Despite their open jaws, neither uttered a word; Buffy merely stood up and stalked over to the double bed. She stared down at her shoes in pique concentration. Cyrus didn’t know if she was thinking about what to say or how to strangle him. Luckily, Andi spoke before he could find out.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I just… I didn’t think it was anything to talk about,” Cyrus replied, meekly. “And it didn’t seem fair for me to talk about boys when you were having so many problems with your own.”

“Cyrus,” she began, softly, taking his hands in her own. “If he looks like that, you’re free to talk about him anytime.” A goofy grin broke out across her face, and Cyrus let out a wheezy laugh of relief. _No one’s angry_. He looked back at Buffy, who was held in an identical humor, and offered a vague gesture of agreement. Andi gave his leg a gentle squeeze and pulled herself onto the bed, laying her head on Cyrus’s lap. Buffy joined them, hopping on the rollaway with a landing that made the cheap springs groan in protest.

“So,” she hummed. Cyrus rolled his eyes, already knowing the direction this conversation was headed. “You like him?”

“Maybe? I’m not sure.” That wasn’t _really _a lie; his feelings had always been hard to read. “It’s been so long since I’ve really _liked_ someone. I’m afraid I’m not exactly an expert in the ‘romantic inquiries’ department.”

“Then let Dr. Buffy run the tests.” Buffy cleared her throat and adjusted herself into a seated position. “Question 1 for Patient Cyrus: Does your stomach do a little _swoop_ whenever you see him?”

“Bad question, Buffy. I think everyone’s stomach does that when they see him,” Andi giggled. Buffy responded by smacking her with the pillow.

“Eyes to yourself ma’am!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Andi threw her hands up in mock surrender.

“Re: Stomach Swoop,” Cyrus began. “Not sure. Any ‘swooping’ could probably be attributed to my inherent social anxiety.” Now that was a lie. Even the thought of seeing TJ was making his stomach float off into another dimension.

“Good to know,” Buffy said, jotting notes onto her imaginary clipboard. “Next question. Does your heart race around them? Do you fumble with your words and start to get all nervous?”

“Don’t forget sweaty,” Andi added.

“I think you just described my typical state of existence.” Cyrus rubbed his palms against the bedsheets. _Yeah,_ _normal sweatiness. That’s all._

“Final question–”

“Short test.”

“Shush,” Buffy huffed. “Final question: How often do you think about him?”

_Talk about the unanswerable question_, Cyrus thought. How often he thinks about TJ? More than he should, probably. To be fair, he had appeared fairly frequently within his recent timeline. But, how often does he think about anyone else in his life? He rarely ever thought about Walker or about Christina or Gus or any other kid from school. He thought about Andi and Buffy all the time, but they were his friends. Did TJ qualify as a friend? For some inexplicable reason he trusted him as much as one. Sure, he thought about him almost every single night before bed, and he was usually the topic of his dreams and the first thing in his mind when he woke up, but there was a solid four hours that went unoccupied by TJ and his hoodie and his pajama pants that he for some reason always wore–

“Not too often,” Cyrus lied, vocal cracking extremely present. Buffy was clearly unconvinced, but she dismissed it.

“My test results are inconclusive,” she said. “Come back in one week for a checkup.”

Andi scoffed and rolled onto her back. Cyrus glanced over, expecting her usual peppiness, but her smile had been replaced by a grimace.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Cyrus scooted closer. Andi avoided looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Buffy sat up, pulling the pillow close to her chest. She crawled up next to Cyrus.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, brushing a stray hair away from Andi’s eyes. Andi swallowed, her eyes beginning to glimmer with the first sign of tears.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she whispered. _That came out of nowhere. _Cyrus and Buffy exchanged a worried look, not sure of how to respond. Andi continued.

“I just–“ she paused as a sob threatened to break from her throat. “I just feel like I’ve wasted all this time doing nothing. Doing all this crap that doesn’t make me happy, and it sucks because we’re all about to leave and everyone already knows who they are, except me.”

Buffy scooped Andi’s hand into her own. She took a deep breath, waiting for Andi to steady her own before speaking.

“Andi,” she started, tentative. “Does this have anything to do with Jonah?”

Andi didn’t respond to that. She seemed terrified that any word would make her break. Buffy began to run a gentle hand through her hair, letting her take her time. Finally, she spoke, “It’s been four years. I’ve spent four years with him and I have no idea why. All we ever to is make each other miserable and fight and I’m so sick of it, but it feels like… I just…” She bit down hard on her lip as a tear threatened to break free. “I’ve just been ‘Jonah’s Girlfriend’ or ‘that girl Jonah Beck dates’ for so long. I don’t want to be this person that no one loves without ‘Jonah Beck’ attached to her. But, I don’t know who I am without him. What if I’m nothing? What if he’s all I am?”

The three of them sat there, blindly searching for the right words, but there really weren’t any. That fear was a truth between the three of them – words wouldn’t erase that. Andi had stopped fighting after the first tear and let herself cry uninhibited, painful sobs that came in waves of gasping breaths and sniffles. Cyrus lowered himself fully onto the bed and nestled Andi’s head into his shoulder, feeling her tears dampen his shirt. He didn’t mind. Gently, he turned her face to look her in the eyes.

“Andi,” he whispered. “I know who you are. We,” he gestured between himself and Buffy. “We know who you are. You’re not just ‘Jonah’s Girlfriend.’ You’re Andi Mack. You are a talented, smart, incredible girl with one of the biggest hearts anyone’s ever had. You need to know that, okay?”

Andi blinked and took a shaky breath, but her lips didn’t move.

“Okay?” He repeated, unrelenting, their eyes locked onto each other’s. Slowly, she nodded. Cyrus shook his head. “I need to hear you say it. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

And he pulled her into a hug, and Buffy joined. And they were okay.

-

TJ laid at the foot of Amber’s bed, absentmindedly tossing a plastic cup between his hands. He was staring up at the ceiling, letting Amber talk freely about everything that had been going on in the six months since he’d seen her. Hearing her talk about drinking and drugs and all the things she said she had stopped hurt, but he was willing to listen. Up to this point he had learned she had gotten into a relationship, gotten out of a relationship, gotten into another one that wasn’t necessarily broken off but just mutually abandoned and…

“And then she just kissed me,” she said. “Like, full on kissed me.”

TJ paused in his cup tossing. He turned his head to face her.

“Wait, _Riley_, Riley? Like your roommate?”

“Yeah! She kissed me!”

“Oh,” TJ paused in his tossing, trying to process what he was being told. “So, she’s gay?”

“I dunno…” She began picking at her nails. “Maybe? I’ve been in kinda a funk and we were both wasted, so I think it was just a friend-thing.”

“Okay, no, that’s not–” TJ took a deep breath. He was just going to ask. Honesty is the best policy, right? “Let me ask you a different question. Was that just a ‘friend-thing’ for _you_? Do you think you’re… Maybe you’re gay?” He was watching her – watched as her eyes sank further toward her feet and her hands played with nervous strands of her blond waves.

“No, it wasn’t,” she started. “I, uh…” There was a small attempt at a laugh before her voice trailed off, leaving them in a silence punctuated only by the faint thumping of a frat party down the street. TJ watched Amber still – watched the way her jaw clenched when she inhaled, like she was afraid all the air would escape.

“Okay,” TJ responded, after a while. “I love you, you know.”

“I know.” She continued picking at the chipped nail-polish. “And I know you won’t judge… It’s just… It’s still…”

“It’s still scary,” he finished. “Always is.”

Amber rolled over onto her back, letting her hands flop down beside her.

“I wanted to ask you something, actually…” Much to TJ’s chagrin, her tone had completely changed. Instead of that tense, wavering whisper, she now had a rambunctious, sing-song intonation. TJ groaned.

“What?”

“That boy back there, the one you sang with?”

“Yeah?”  
“You know him?”

“Um…” He shut his eyes, thinking back on the night in the park, the diner, the motel. “I guess you could say that.”

“You wanna know him some _more_?”

“When’s Riley coming back?” He changed the topic. “I don’t wanna take up her room the whole night.” He and Amber had a system for talking: Amber talked about whatever she wanted and TJ patiently listened. She knew well enough that he did _not_ like talking about himself in any capacity, let alone his love life, but that had never stopped her before.

Amber shrugged. “She’s probably with her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yup,” she sighed. “My first lesbian kiss, and she has a boyfriend.”

“Oh come on,” TJ smirked. “That was not your first lesbian kiss and you know it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously?”

“No idea.”

“That time in tenth grade–”

“Nope, no memory.”

“In the basement, you and–”

“SHUT UP!” Amber gasped, leaping up from the bed. Her hands quickly made use of an old water bottle sitting on her nightstand, whacking TJ over the head several times. “You said you’d never bring that up again!”

“You freaked out and spilled Gatorade _everywhere_.”

“SHUT–”

“Mom was so pissed.”

“When isn’t she?”

“True,” TJ sighed, losing the energy that had just occupied him. “I can’t wait to get out of there.” Amber leaned in next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He could tell there was something bugging her – she was picking at her nails again.

“Promise me one thing,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be like me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t just jump from one cow town to the next. Do something worthwhile. Promise?” She held out her pinky finger. When TJ didn’t take it she repeated herself. “Please? Promise?”

He wrapped his pinky around hers.

“Promise.”

-

It was seven in the morning when Cyrus’s face lifted from the pillow. It took about thirty seconds of staring confusedly at the sunlight pouring in between the blinds for him to begin shouting, scrambling, and pushing the other two out of bed.

“GUYS,” his voice was breaking with a combination of morning-dryness and panic. “GUYS, checkout is in ten minutes!”

“What!?” Buffy croaked, voice equally strained. She gave the Andi-shaped lump next to her a violent kick, almost knocking her off the bed. “Get up!”

The disaster of bed-head that peaked out from under the covers had the additional bonus of post-cry messiness. Her eyes were almost glued shut with swollen lids, and her lips were chapped and puffy. Her voice barely managed at a whisper of “shit!” before she rolled out of the covers and made a run for her backpack.

All three of them were consumed in a flurry of toothbrushes and mismatched clothes. Cyrus barely managed to get a brush through his hair before Buffy grabbed him by the wrist and chucked him out the door. Halfway to the lobby, it occurred to him he had left his phone.

“Crap!” He stopped, patting himself down in the fruitless hope that it would somehow appear in his pocket. “Crap, crap, crap, crap…”

“What?” Buffy snapped.

“I left my phone in there.”

“Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

Cyrus glanced at his watch. They still had two minutes. _Should he run for it?_ It wasn’t like he was known for his athleticism. Instead, he shot Buffy pleading eyes. With a grumble and a dead serious look of ‘you owe me, buddy,’ she took off up the stairs.

“You’re gonna owe her until we graduate,” Andi said, shaking her head in sympathy.

“Oh, I am well aware.”

Buffy reappeared after a minute, phone in hand, barely breaking a sweat. With only moments to spare, she tossed it in Cyrus’s general direction, snatched her bags, and bolted for the front desk. Cyrus glanced at the clock on the wall. _30 seconds to spare_.

Taking a moment to breathe after all the chaos, the trio wandered into the dining area, all opting for some variation of sugary cereal. In between sounds of slurping and spoons clattering against bowls, the vague sound of a newscaster floated to Cyrus’s ears. He peered up, squinting against the sun’s harsh glare.

_“There has been a recall of…”_ the audio was fading in and out. _“…engine problems and malfunctions…”_

“I’m breaking up with him.”

“What?” The sudden proclamation made Cyrus dropped his spoon into his bowl, sending several froot loops soaring across the table in a sticky tsunami of sugar and milk. As he scrambled for something to wipe it up with – ultimately opting for the sleeve of his shirt – Andi began to divulge her plans, Buffy acting as the ever-faithful cheerleader.

“You go! Dump that boy!”

“As soon as we get home!”

“You gotta find yourself!”

“This is my year!”

As the cereal situation appeared to be resolved, Cyrus returned to his seat, now damp from becoming a human mop. At Buffy’s expectant look, he offered a supportive thumbs up, but his mind was still processing. _Jonah and Andi?_ _Splitting up?_ He knew it had been a long time coming, but it almost didn’t seem possible. He supposed it was like Andi said; it had just become a fact of life. Andi and Jonah dated. That’s just how it was. Cyrus stirred his spoon around his cereal, distracting himself by grouping the loops by color.

That’s when he noticed the smudge across his hand. Upon further inspection, he realized that the number TJ had scribbled onto his skin the night before had almost completely rubbed off. The utter disappointment on his face must have been clear, because Buffy and Andi paused to address him.

“What’s up?” Buffy cocked her head to the side.

“Hm?” Cyrus popped his head up from his hand. “Oh, yeah… It seems that my one achievement in the relationship realm has disappeared. Literally.” He held up his hand to show them.

“Aw.” Buffy pulled it to her face, squinting at the numbers that now resembled coffee stains. “I’m sorry, Cyrus.”

“I promise it won’t be the last number you get from a cute boy,” Andi chimed in.

“Probably the last from _that_ cute boy, though,” Cyrus mumbled, sinking back into the chair. The probability that TJ would appear in his life _again_ within the next two weeks was slim to none – fate had likely used up all of its ‘meet this random guy from your town anywhere but your town’ cards for the whole year. “If I run into him at school after not calling him, he’ll probably think I hate him and never want to talk to me again,” Cyrus tried to laugh, but it came out more like a wheeze, so he covered it with a very unconvincing cough.

Luckily, his melancholy was interrupted by a ringing from across the table, which Andi quickly realized was her phone.

“Sorry,” she squeaked, pulling it from her jacket pocket, about to shut it right back off when she read the caller ID. “I… I need to take this,” she stammered, and immediately excused herself from the table.

Buffy and Cyrus barely resisted the urge to follow her and listen in. It wasn’t long before Andi returned. Her face had gone completely white, her grip on her phone so tight it looked as though she might snap it in two.

“Andi?” Buffy asked, her eyes swimming with concern.

“We need to go home.”

No questions were asked. The three of them piled into the car and started down the interstate, back to Shadyside.

-

TJ didn’t want to leave Amber. Even though she seemed back to her old self, he couldn’t help but worry. In his mind, the best thing would have been for him to stay with her indefinitely, but with some convincing from Riley, he had packed his things together and said his goodbyes. Amber promised she would come out to visit him next time. Next time.

They waved goodbye at the edge of campus, where TJ whispered that she should come home with him, and Amber laughed and said that she wouldn’t step in that house if there was a gun pointed at her back. She shooed him to the door, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Reluctantly, TJ threw his car into drive and found his way back to the interstate.

There weren’t many good radio stations in the area. Mostly they just played the same songs, and most of those songs were from country singers who all had similar stories to tell about losing their one-true-love and tractors and other vaguely country-related things. Rather than that, TJ had opted for one of the old CDs his mom had stored away back when she was allowed to drive. Now he cruised down the highway to the sounds of Fleetwood Mac.

_“Thunder only happens when it’s raining…” _he hummed along, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. _“Players only love you when they’re playing…”_

His mind wandered off to Amber, and to Riley. How she had kissed her and it meant nothing. It struck him suddenly that he hadn’t ever asked if Cyrus was single. Or gay. He had just assumed so, since he hadn’t ever shied away from him, but maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he was just hoping if he didn’t say anything TJ would just leave him alone. The thought alone made TJ’s stomach churn. He glanced down at his phone.

_He never called, _he thought. _Stupid. You’re so stupid._

_“Dreams of loneliness, like a heartbeat, drives you mad…”_ He pressed harder on the gas, trying to outrun his thoughts. Rain had started to prickle at his car. The dull tapping against the roof only seemed to amplify everything, turning his mind hazy. There still weren’t any cars on the road. He rubbed a frustrated hand across his face and for a moment he considered just getting out and letting the rain wash him away. Standing in the middle of the road and waiting. He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to. He didn’t.

Home was fighting and drinking and broken bottles and quiet that was more terrifying than noise. Home was a small town where people lost their jobs and no one stayed if they didn’t have to. It was home by default. By name and by assignment and by time, but not by anything that actually made somewhere home.

He passed sign after sign that directed him back toward his little house with its white siding and picket fence. Toward the bakery that was about to go bankrupt. Toward his parents who only spoke about money. And that was his future. To grow up, go to another little house, and live out the life that he knew.

A flash caught his eye, and TJ was whipped back to the present. Through the rain, he could barely make out hazard lights, and what appeared to be three panicked people jumping up and down like rabbits on speed. _Should he stop?_ He sighed. _What’s there to lose?_ With a motivation more consisting of boredom than altruism, he flicked on his blinker and pulled over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back! Sorry, this chapter took an angsty turn, but I promise it's gonna be fluffy again! I hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think :)


	7. Here Comes the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, two uploads in a row? Wild. Thanks for reading, and I love you guys!

The last place that Cyrus wanted to be stranded was at the edge of an interstate that apparently _no one_ used. It’s not like he actually expected anyone to pull over to help them – he personally wouldn’t risk being kidnapped – but he expected there to at least _be_ people to ignore them.

Buffy had been insisting that she did not have a faulty model. When the engine started to sputter, she insisted it just needed a be revved a few times. And when the car stopped moving she said that they just needed to open up the hood and let it cool down. And when it started smoking she grabbed them and ran about twenty feet away to see if it would explode. Luckily it didn’t – likely due to the the rain that had begun to pour moments later.

Now they were standing, soaked to the bone, jumping up and down and screaming in the hopes that God would hear them and have mercy. Or at least that’s what Cyrus was doing. Andi and Buffy on the other hand…

“You were the one that told me to take the BMW!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell us it was being recalled!”

They had been arguing for the last twenty minutes, and it had just about fried Cyrus’s last nerve. At this point, even if someone did pull over, they would probably drive away again out of sheer irritation.

Then something caught his eye. It was blurry, but there was the distinct outline of a car heading their way.

“Guys?”

“You have no right to call me irresponsible!”

“_Seriously!?”_

“Guys!”

“I cannot believe you’re being like this!”

“First of all–”

“GUYS!” he screamed, interrupting Andi mid-rebuttal. He threw his hand out toward the shape hurtling toward them. The two girls paused to gaze in the direction of his outstretched arm, and without so much as a grumble they joined Cyrus in his actions – yelling and jumping and running back and forth like headless chickens. The car was drawing closer, closer, closer…

And it passed them.

“Shit!” Buffy groaned, spinning around and delivering a frustrated kick to the door of her car. The regret was immediate. “Ow, ow, shit, stupid…” she muttered through gritted teeth as she hopped to a seated position on the trunk. Andi sighed and leaned back against the car door, running a hand through her bangs. Her hair was matted against her forehead as a result of the rain and despite her many attempts to brush it out of her eyes, it continuously fell right back into place.

“At least we still have our shoes,” Cyrus joked. The absolutely unamused expressions from both Andi and Buffy were enough to kill a man. “Okay, I’ll shut up now.”

The trio stood in a shivering tableau – Andi now sunken to the ground, Buffy still perched on the trunk, rubbing her foot. Cyrus watched the road like a sad puppy waiting for its owner to come home. He kept closing his eyes and opening them with the hopes that this was a bad dream and he would wake up soon.

Buffy had begun to tap on the trunk. It was an empty addition to the already hollow thumping of rain, but Cyrus wasn’t going to say anything. Then Andi began to hum. He couldn’t make out the song at first, so he just ignored it and continued his lookout. Then Buffy started singing too, and that’s when Cyrus recognized it.

“_Little darling, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter…”_

_“Little darling,”_ they lilted. _“It feels like years since it’s been here.”_

_ “Here comes the sun, do-do-do-do,” _Cyrus joined in. _“Here comes the sun, and I say…”_ Somehow, the air seemed to get a little warmer. Buffy slid off the trunk and joined Cyrus at the edge of the road. Andi eventually stood up and wandered over as well.

_“It’s all right.”_

And a few verses turned into giggles and playful shoves, and Cyrus thanked the universe that things were turning around again.

“You know,” Andi spoke, breaking them out of the chorus. “I don’t think I’d mind being stranded here forever with you guys.”

“Aw, you’re gonna make me cry.” Cyrus wiped at a fake tear.

“Yeah, no, I’m not dying in Illinois.” Buffy then stepped out into the middle of the road, squinting at something.

“Um, if you do that you will!” Cyrus called out in concern, standing on his tip toes to figure out what she was looking at. Buffy shook her head and started marching faster and faster down the road.

“Where are you going?” Andi shouted. “We need to stay together!”  
Buffy didn’t respond, she just kept on going. Then, she froze, turned on her heel, and started running back toward them.

“What?”

“CAR!” she screamed, waving her arms back and forth. “CAR! CAR! CAR!” Andi and Cyrus met her halfway and started screaming and waving down the little green car headed their way. Andi climbed atop the convertible and started jumping up and down, and Buffy didn’t even protest. The car was coming closer, closer, closer…

It wasn’t slowing down.

“No, no, no,” Cyrus whimpered.

And it passed them.

“NO!” Buffy howled, taking a running start after it. “I HOPE YOU GET A FLAT TIRE YOU STUPID–”

“Wait!” Cyrus grabbed her by the back of her shirt. She protested his grip, throwing out the bird and spitting more swears. “Stop it!” he hissed, giving her a light ‘bap’ on the head. “Look.” Buffy stopped flailing for a second to peer down the road, where the car had turned on its blinker. It was pulling over. They stared in disbelief, refusing to take their eyes off of it out of fear it would disappear. Then it started backing up.

There was a unanimous squeal of joy as the three took off in its direction. It could be a serial killer at this point and they wouldn’t care. They were cold and wet and stranded and maybe a murder basement wouldn’t be so bad. The car turned off its engine and the driver got out. The rain had begun to thin out into a mist, but it was still difficult to see much.

“Hey,” the person spoke. “You guys need some help?”

That voice was familiar.

_Oh,_ Cyrus realized. _Oh. My. God._

-

TJ held a hand out to try and shield his eyes from the rain. He still hadn’t found his contacts, so his glasses were getting completely splattered. Somehow, mist managed to be even harder to see through.

“Hey,” he called out. “You guys need some help?” He couldn’t quite make out the people in front of him, but it seemed to be two girls and a guy.

“Yeah,” one of the girls called back. “You know how to fix an engine?”

“Maybe?” He slowly began making his way closer. The shoulder was slick with mud and rain, and his shoes were not having it. An umbrella might have been a good investment. One of the girls stepped forward at him.

“My friend here didn’t tell us about ‘the great engine recall,’ so we’ve been stuck out here for a good two hours.”

“Damn,” he whistled. “Lemme take a look. You got a flash…” he trailed off as he made eye contact with the boy standing off to the side. Brown hair, plastered flat from rain but still revealing unruly waves and curls. Two eyes that crinkled at the edges and arms that were skinny and nervous and played with his collar…

“Cyrus.” The name slipped out on his breath. Cyrus returned a hesitant wave and that quirky, tender smile that fluttered into his mind before he fell asleep.

“Hello?” The girl waved a hand in front of his face. “Car? Fix?”

“Yeah.” His mind switched back to the present. “Yeah. Right.” He leaned down and examined the car beneath the hood. There wasn’t anything noticeably wrong, except some discoloration that probably resulted from overheating.

“I don’t really know if there’s anything I can do about this,” he admitted. The girl’s face fell as soon as he spoke. “I can give you my Triple A card, if you want?” It wasn’t the ideal solution, but it was something. TJ reached into his pocket and dug out his wallet, sliding out the little white card and extending it out to her. “Wanna go sit in my car? It’s probably a little drier.”

The girl with the short hair, whose name was something like “Ally” or “Amy,” considered him for a moment before reaching out to take the card. Just as she did, however, Cyrus piped up from behind her.

“Hey, Andi?” _That’s her name!_ “You really need to get home, right?”

“Doesn’t seem like that’s happening anymore,” she grimaced.

“Maybe…TJ,” he said, turning to face him. “You live in Shadyside.”

“Yeah…?”  
“Wait,” the other girl, who he remembered now as Buffy, stepped between them. “TJ? What the hell–”

“Later!” Cyrus put up a hand to stop her. “TJ, could Andi and Buffy drive your car to Shadyside, and we stay back and wait out the Triple A guy here?"  
TJ stared at him. This may be the sketchiest idea anyone had ever suggested. _Just hand his car over?_ Then again, this was Cyrus. Cyrus who he trusted for some reason. Cyrus who he had now run into about four times inexplicably in multiple locations across the US. Cyrus who apparently fate _really_ wanted him to be alone with. If it was fate, it would be rude to refuse, right?

“Okay,” he answered before he could change his mind. _That’s that_. He reached into his pocket and dug out his keys. “There should be enough gas to get you to Nebraska. Take a pit stop there, and you should be good ’til you get back to Utah.”

Andi looked between him and Cyrus with an expression that TJ couldn’t quite read. Slowly, she took the keys from his hand, whispering “thank you” and giving Cyrus a hug before running over to his car. Buffy shot him a look that landed somewhere between suspicion and that of a child who had learned a secret. She stopped for briefly to whisper something to Cyrus, then turned and followed Andi to the car.

-

“See you at home!” Andi called as she rolled up the window. The engine turned over and the car pulled away from the shoulder, steadily making its way to the road.

“See ya!” Cyrus yelled back. As his friends slipped over the horizon, it occurred to him that he was actually, truly alone with TJ for the first time since the park. And this time he actually knew it was TJ. Maybe that thought should have calmed him down, but his mind took it as the green light to become hyperaware of absolutely everything – especially TJ.

“Okay.” TJ clapped his hands together and the sound jolted Cyrus out of his thoughts. “I guess I’ll call them?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” He cleared his throat. The air was starting to feel thinner.

TJ pulled his phone from his pocket, waving it at Cyrus with a playful smile and dialed the number. As he waited, he ran his hands through his hair, occasionally flashing Cyrus a fake yawn or a goofy face that made Cyrus break out into uncontrollable giggles.

When the line was finally answered, problems began to arise. Their location was hard to determine and TJ wasn’t exactly familiar with the car model. To make matters worse, the reception was fading in and out, and TJ’s tone was getting more and more exasperated every time he had to say, “Yes, I’m still here.” It only took about four occurrences of this before TJ’s hand started to shake around the phone, and Cyrus offered to take the call for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw TJ watching him, but every time he looked over, TJ was turned away. He thought it would be better to ignore him, but TJ’s sparkly eyes and his perfect hair and his _freaking _checkered pajama pants always lingered at the back of his mind. Then, at long last, he heard the beautiful words of, “We’ll be sending a worker your way.”

“Okay, thank you! Thank you so much,” he chirped. “Okay. Bye. Love you.”

_No no no!_

“Wait, sorry, no. Ignore that. No love. Wait! Not no love, I mean… Actually, never mind. Sorry. Bye.” He hit the end call button and held the phone out at arms’ length to TJ, hiding his face as it flushed beet red.

“Sorry,” Cyrus mumbled, refusing to look anywhere except the ground.

“For what?”

Cyrus managed to pull his eyes up for one moment, one brief, flash of a moment, and was caught completely off guard as TJ’s face broke into a smile. Words vanished from his mind, replaced by radio static and the scent of the mist as it fell around them. Cyrus was usually someone who got nervous, but not usually like this. He didn’t turn beet red and fumble with his words and feel dizzy and sweaty all the time. His heart was racing, and he felt like if he looked up at TJ he would vomit.

The wait for the Triple A person was borderline unbearable. Every second was filled with TJ’s little sounds – his sighs, or his shoe dragging back and forth across the asphalt, or the little sniffle he made when he ran his hands over his face. He received a raised eyebrow from TJ after he triggered a sharp gasp. It wasn’t intentional – TJ had stretched and Cyrus couldn’t handle it. He immediately turned away, burying his face into his shirt collar.

At last, a red truck appeared on the horizon. TJ took charge, walking over and waving it down. Fortunately, the rain had mostly cleared up so they weren’t difficult to spot.

There were a few more awkward moments as the worker, whose name was Tom, took a look at the car. When he heard “Triple-A worker,” Cyrus had not expected the Adonis of all mechanics to make an appearance. And TJ seemed so relaxed. Tom even gave him a joking pat to the chest after TJ said something that must have been funny in car-language. He couldn’t help but watch him – how he looked so at ease. Just talking about “dude stuff.” Cyrus hadn’t ever been much of a “dude.” It struck him that TJ might not want to talk to a non-dudish dude like himself. Maybe TJ wanted a “real-dude” like Tom, who probably liked sports and could tell you all the different types of wrenches.

“Okay, try turning the engine on,” Tom instructed. _Even his voice is so dude-ly._ TJ slipped in behind the wheel and turned the key. They listened with bated breath. His fingers were crossed so hard he thought they might fall off. The engine made a pop, then a sputter, then roared to life with a sound that, to them, was the most beautiful thing in existence.

The three of them let out a collective sigh, and Cyrus held back the desire to squeal. _Do something_ _dude-ly, _he thought. He crossed his arms and cleared his throat in an awkward grunt. _No, not that!_ TJ shot him a sideways glance, but didn’t say anything. He climbed out of the car and shook Tom’s hand, thanking him and wishing him a safe travel back. Tom responded with some kind of car lingo that sounded vaguely Greek to Cyrus, who kept nodding in lost agreement.

A sudden clap on his back caused him to double over. He caught himself on his knees, glancing behind him at the culprit – a very concerned looking TJ.

“Woah, sorry,” he apologized quickly. “Didn’t mean to knock you down like that.”

“I’m fine,” Cyrus wheezed with a dismissive wave. “Just mild shock. No need to worry.”

“Okay.” TJ helped him stand up. He jangled the keys. “Wanna drive?”

Cyrus shook his head. “I drive like a grandpa who just picked up fourteen cats on the way back from a funeral.” _Why? Why would he say that? _But TJ laughed. A real, loud laugh that made his eyes close and his hand grab at his chest. At his chest with the hoodie whose strings were uneven and slightly stained – which would usually gross him out but seemed charming on TJ. Cyrus tried to laugh too, but it came out as more of a squeak, so he coughed again to cover it up.

“You got a cold?”

“No.” Cyrus kicked himself internally. “Allergies.”

“Got it.”

The two of them clambered into the car. Cyrus tried not to watch as TJ fiddled with the seat, sliding it back to accommodate his legs. He avoided looking as TJ buckled himself in, and definitely was not looking when he lightly fluffed his hair when after adjusting the rearview mirror.

“Buckled?”

“Yeah.”

They took a slow start down the road, TJ still feeling out the controls. Cyrus was trying to keep his mouth shut, to let him concentrate. The harder he tried not to look at him, the more he wanted to.

_Fine_, he told himself. _One look. Just one._ Keeping his head mostly facing down, he turned in TJ’s general direction. _Discreet._ _Stay discreet_. TJ only had one hand on the wheel. He kept it at the top, and the other he rested beside the window. _One look_. TJ glanced at the side mirror, catching Cyrus mid-stare. He flashed him a smile – a full, toothy smile – and a firecracker exploded in the back of Cyrus’s mind. The sunlight bathed him in an orange glow that drove contrast up and down his features – reflecting off of his green eyes, sinking into the lines on his cheeks and setting ablaze the dusting of freckles that lay across his nose.

Cyrus swiveled back, his mind filling with a million different reactions – _“Talk to him!” “Stay quiet” “Play some music!” “Compliment him!” “Oh, look a beetle!"_

“Punch buggy!” he yelped, giving TJ a smack on the arm that actually came out quite forceful. TJ put a hand over the spot where it had landed, mouth slightly open. Fear and regret flooded every bone in his body. He braced himself against what he expected to be a lot of words that he didn’t want to hear.

“Damn, you pack a punch,” he mused, giving Cyrus a light punch back. His skin buzzed when he touched it. And he had dimples. Cyrus now saw that TJ had two little dimples that appeared when he smirked, but not when he smiled. And he wanted so badly to poke them.As TJ turned his eyes back to the road, a soft giggle escaped his lips and Cyrus had to suppress an inhuman noise that rose in his throat.

The longer they traveled, the more the landscape changed. The yellow plains morphed into hills dotted with purple flowers and trees that swayed with the breeze as they passed. On occasion they came upon houses where children kicked soccer balls into homemade nets, or were pushed on swings that hung from low branches.

“Did you ever have one of those?” TJ asked, pointing toward them.

“No,” Cyrus sighed. “My parents were always worried I’d fall off and break something.” TJ snorted a bit at that. Making him laugh in any way had become Cyrus’s favorite pastime. “Did you have one?” he continued on.

“Oh yeah!” TJ’s eyes lit up as he spoke. “My dad built it for me and my sister when I was eight.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yup. She’s one year older. Actually, she graduated from Grant last year.”

“Oh wow. What’s her name?”

“Amber.”

“That’s pretty.”

“It is. She’s great, she’s–”

He stopped speaking. Something in his eyes grew misty and faraway, and TJ’s body suddenly seemed heavier, more tired. His second hand dropped back onto the wheel, and the dimples vanished from his cheeks. Cyrus waited for him to keep talking, but he didn’t. The sky had started to darken again, but no rain fell. It just left the scenery bathed in a shadow that drew the kids indoors and the laughter to a close. Cyrus pulled at a loose string on his jeans and began to wonder if his parents had come home yet. Would they be angry that he just took off without saying anything?

“Can I ask you something?” TJ broke in, barely audible.

Cyrus hesitated. The tone was different. “Of course,” he responded, finally letting himself turn and fully face TJ.

“Why did you tell those guys to head back without you?"

Cyrus froze. He didn't have a reason. Right? No reason. 

"Andi needed to get back soon."

"That's all?"

"Yup," he squeaked. His voice was high in his throat. That meant he was lying. Was he lying?

TJ nodded slowly. "Okay," he replied simply. But something was different, and a silence of bated breaths fell over the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Two things: 1) I'm changing the way I title the chapters, just because they stay in the same location for a while and I don't want it to get confusing 2) I p r O m i S e the angst is almost over, please just trust me when I say there's a happy ending!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :) (Also, happy Thanksgiving to my American folk!)


	8. Close Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Sorry I've been gone for a literal month – college apps and scholarship season are finally over though! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter ;)

TJ didn’t know what he had been hinting at. _Why would Cyrus have any other reason to send back Andi and Buffy alone? _Cyrus had asked to turn on the radio. TJ nodded. 

The rain was back, and the dull thumping was disconcertingly off beat from the music. Time passed slowly. Every single second seemed to take thirty times as long as it should. At every static, every pause in the rhythm, he had to fight the urge to look over at Cyrus. It was a lot harder than he would have thought. 

As the sun sank below the horizon, TJ became aware of how hungry he was. They still had a while before they reached the border, and he figured most restaurants would be closed by the time they got there. He figured it would be better to address it now rather than later. He turned to Cyrus.

“You hungry?” he asked. 

Cyrus nodded.

“Cool.” TJ began to scour the road for one of those signs that told you to ‘_exit in one mile for Taco Bell!’_ or something similarly promising. Unfortunately, the food options appeared as bare as the road around them. Cyrus must have felt him getting tense because he spoke up suddenly.

“There’s a kosher place close by,” he squeaked, peering through the raindrops racing down the window. “I think if you turn out here.” TJ did as he suggested, pulling off the interstate. 

Unlike a lot of the roads he had taken on the trip, this diversion didn’t lead to a quaint, nearly-empty neighborhood. Actually, there were a lot of people bustling about – talking, shopping, eating. He couldn’t see him well in the dark, but Cyrus almost looked to be smiling.

“There’s an apartment building here,” Cyrus piped up again. His eyes were fixed on something in the distance. “I think you can park in the back.”

He was right. There were only a few cars, which was surprising considering the number of people about. He pulled into a spot under a dim streetlamp. TJ climbed out, but Cyrus stayed put, frowning. 

“You’re not in the lines.”

“I’m not?” TJ stepped back to see better. He was indeed not within the lines.

“Here,” Cyrus held out his hand, reaching for the keys. “Let me re-park it.”

“There’s no one here,” TJ retorted. “Let’s just go. I’m hungry.”

“Then you go ahead and I’ll re-park it.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Just let me re-park it.”

Cyrus wasn’t budging. He was staring right at TJ, hand outstretched. With a frustrated sigh, TJ gave in and dropped the keys into Cyrus’s hand.

“I’ll go grab a table. Looks packed around here.”

“It won’t be.”

TJ shut his eyes and took an aggravated breath. Cyrus was acting strange, more know-it-all than usual. As he began to walk out of the lot, he heard the car start up, and the crunch of pebbles beneath the tires. TJ still kept his head fully down as he walked, arms crossed as the rain soaked through his clothes.

He was joined by the sound of running footsteps. It was probably Cyrus, but TJ didn’t stop to check. The sound softened and slowed as it grew closer.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Cyrus asked, popping up by TJ’s shoulder. 

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Stop, let me show you,” Cyrus insisted. TJ pushed on a little faster. Cyrus grabbed at his arm. “I don’t want you to get lost–”

TJ spun on his heel and yanked his arm back. “Why are you being so annoying?” he snapped. As soon as it was said, the anger dissipated from his veins. “Wait,” he sputtered quickly, trying to erase his mistake. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine,” Cyrus replied.If he was upset, he gave no indication.

“Cyrus…”

“It’s fine,” he repeated, more pleading than forceful – a request for the conversation to end. And then what made it all worse was that he smiled. He _smiled, _and TJ felt like thirty-two little white knives had been driven through his chest. 

The two made their way to the restaurant at a slow, pensive pace – looking anywhere but each other. They plodded along, their footsteps a distinct contrast to the quick and purposeful movements of the crowd. It was almost like they were afraid, whether of each other or themselves, TJ wasn’t sure. 

“It’s here,” Cyrus chirped, pointing up at a glowing sign above them. _ISAAC’S DELI & RESTAURANT_. Cyrus pushed open the doors without hesitation, and TJ fell into step behind him. The way he entered – the giggle at the entrance bell, the sudden confidence that overtook his slouched frame – there was a new glow about him. 

Cyrus asked for a table for two, and the hostess gave them a seat in the back, even though there were a lot of others available. When they sat down, TJ took the chair and Cyrus slid into the booth. They opened their menus, but Cyrus didn’t look at his. He wasn’t even pretending to. He was gazing into the back, toward the double doors that led to the kitchen. 

A boy with dark hair and a fragile frame came to take their order. He wasn’t much older than them. When Cyrus saw him, he shifted in his seat and sat up a little straighter.

“Hey,” he said. A smile tickled the corners of his mouth when he spoke. The boy didn’t say anything, but smiled and held up his notepad. Cyrus ordered, then TJ, and the boy left back into the kitchen. And Cyrus’s gaze followed him out.

TJ didn’t want to ask. It wasn’t his business. Not in the slightest. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to count the number of tiles. But counting was confusing, so he just observed the design instead. It was some kind of mosaic, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.

“You like it?” Cyrus asked. TJ’s eyes returned to the table where Cyrus was gazing up with a wistful expression. “I do, too,” he sighed. 

“It’s pretty. I like the colors.”

“Thanks,” Cyrus smiled.“I picked them out.”

TJ blinked at him. He couldn’t quite piece together the information he had received. But before he could think of a proper question, Cyrus spoke again.

“This is my Bubbie Rose’s old restaurant,” he explained, offhandedly rubbing at his collar. “She opened it in 1975, but added that mosaic after I was born.” He paused, and TJ took in how thoughtful he looked in that moment, cheek resting in one hand, eyes sparkling under the low lights. “She taught me how to cook here. I always thought I was going to take over when I grew up.”

“Are you going to?” TJ asked. Cyrus shook his head. “Why not?” 

He started playing with his collar again. His fingers moved methodically, even though the movement seemed unconscious. Weaving, up and down and over a little button that hid behind it. When he spoke again, his voice was different, like it had been squeezed by someone’s fist. “My parents didn’t want me to. They actually… They stopped letting me see her a few years before she died.”

TJ waited for him to continue. He didn’t. The boy returned with two plates of food and set them down in front of them with a smile. That’s when TJ noticed the similarity – the crinkle in his eyes, the coffee brown, the unruly waves that topped a pale face.

“Is that your brother?” TJ asked as the boy walked away.

“Cousin,” Cyrus corrected. “But we’re close. At least, we used to be.”

“What happened?”

The fiddling got more intense. Weaving, but now a thread tugged or plucked. Cyrus pressed his lips together and let out a breathy laugh. “It’s not a very interesting story. Actually, what you might find interesting though is…” The conversation was redirected by Cyrus’s subtle command, but the questions still nipped at TJ’s mind. They talked about school, and the teachers they shared, all the times they probably passed each other in the hallway and didn’t realize. TJ thought about how funny it was that you could live in the same town as someone else for years and never know they existed. 

They finished their meals and waved down Cyrus’s cousin for the check. When TJ tried to take it, Cyrus told him that he was going to cover him – he owed him for the trip back. Despite his fervent protest, he was secretly glad to have avoided another money incident in front of Cyrus. Plus, he was about to go broke from gas costs and motel fees. The two collected their few things and gave the hostess a nod of thanks before exiting.

As they turned the corner back into the parking lot, TJ felt an impulse rise in his stomach, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Cyrus?” he called, prompting Cyrus to stop as well. He turned, thin arms held up in an attempt to shield himself from the rain.

“What are you doing? We’re getting wet,” he yelled back, voice strained over the storm. TJ clutched tightly to himself as though afraid of blowing away.

“I…” TJ licked his lips as he fumbled with his words. “Earlier… I feel bad–”

“I already told you, it’s fine!” Cyrus turned to walk away again, but TJ grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

“It’s not!” he insisted. Cyrus flinched back, and TJ realized how loudly he was speaking. His grip slackened, now a light hold on his arm. “You’re not annoying. You’re not at all. You’re… You’re actually so…” The word was on the tip of his tongue. He stumbled through his thoughts, through the catalogues of vocabulary terms he had thrown out and ignored over the years. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but you make me feel… Dumb.”

Cyrus’s face shifted into guilt. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to–”

“That’s not what I mean! No, I…” TJ slapped a hand to his forehead, hoping to knock out the right words. “You don’t make me feel dumb. You don’t, it’s me, I just…” This apology was an absolute train-wreck. Cyrus didn’t say anything. He just watched TJ and waited for him to finish. TJ couldn’t. They just looked at each other, confused and slightly lost. 

A shattering _CRACK_ woke them both from the moment, and TJ’s hand slipped from Cyrus’s arm. They stared at the source of the sound – a tree blown into a power line.

“We need to go,” Cyrus muttered, first to himself, then louder. “WE NEED TO GO!” TJ snapped out of the daze and made a dash for the car. He struggled with the keys in his fingers, slick from the rain. 

“TJ!” Cyrus was becoming hysterical now. “OPEN THE CAR!” 

“I’m trying!” 

Then Cyrus was by his side, hands on top of TJ’s. And he easily found the key, and he jammed it unsuccessfully at the lock with fingers that shook uncontrollably. TJ helped guide his trembling hand, and together they opened the door. Cyrus didn’t even run back around; he just leaped through the driver’s side and crawled into the passenger seat. 

This time TJ didn’t check to see if Cyrus was buckled. He threw the car into reverse and whipped out of the parking lot. In a few seconds, they were racing down the street in Buffy’s convertible, outrunning chairs and signs that were picked up and thrown by the storm. Both held their breaths until the car’s wheels touched back onto the interstate. 

The road smoothed out and turned to that comforting, barren sameness that defined most of their trip.

-

TJ was on edge, but Cyrus didn’t know why. And he didn’t know why he was so obsessed with apologizing for before, especially since it seemed like he didn’t actually know _how_ to apologize. Cyrus wanted to be frustrated, wanted to get angry, but he just couldn’t find the energy to. Besides, that had never really been an attribute of his personality. 

Maybe he did have another motive for asking Buffy and Andi to go without him, and maybe it had nothing to do with Andi’s emergency. Maybe he really enjoyed seeing TJ smile, and to the way that he always looked down at his lap when he laughed. 

“Okay,” TJ sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m stupid,” he let out a wry laugh. “I can’t even apologize without messing it up.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not!” TJ tightened his grip around the steering wheel. “It’s not fine! You’re incredible. You’re nice and smart and funny and, geez,” he muttered. “I don’t get why you just let people walk all over you–”

“I don’t–”

“I’m not done!” he yelped. “God, you don’t get what that does to people who care about you, when you make them watch you get kicked around. It sucks so bad.”

TJ paused, as though he had just heard what he said. Cyrus stared dumbfounded at the boy sitting next to him.

“You…” he gulped. “You care about me?”

“Uh,” TJ’s face turned a bright shade of pink. “No. I mean, I care. But not in… In like a weird way.”

“A weird way?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Let’s just drop it.”

“No,” Cyrus shot back. TJ shot him a look of frustration. “Tell me what you mean.” There was a pained look in TJ’s eyes as he struggled to focus on driving. Cyrus refused to pull his gaze away, refused to look anywhere else but TJ.

“I mean that I care about you.”

“I care about you too,” Cyrus replied. TJ shook his head.

“Stop.”

“What?”  
“Please just stop. I can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

TJ was gripping the wheel so tightly he looked like he was going to explode. He was swallowing every second and his eyes darted between the mirrors without rest. Cyrus squinted in the dark. It almost looked like he was shaking. _Was he?_

Suddenly, the car slammed to a halt and Cyrus’s seatbelt jerked him back, knocking the breath from his lungs. For a moment, he thought they had been hit. His hands were clinging tightly to the sides of his seat and blood had already made its way to his ears, pounding and pounding alongside the sound of his own heaving gasps. Cyrus turned to TJ, bewildered. 

They weren’t on the highway anymore. TJ had pulled the car to a complete stop on the shoulder. His hand was still clinging to the gearshift although his body was pressed staunchly against his seat. Now that they were completely still, Cyrus could see TJ clearly. Shaking. TJ was shaking. 

“Hey,” Cyrus whispered. His hand lifted slightly from its death-grip on the seat. He wanted to reach out and take TJ’s hand from the gearshift, to hold it and make it stop trembling. “What’s going on?” 

TJ blinked and looked up. At first Cyrus was confused. _What was there to look at?_ Then he realized he wasn’t looking at anything. He was trying not to cry.

“Cyrus?” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Can you close your eyes?”

“Okay.”

In the darkness behind his closed lids, every feeling grew stronger – every rustle, every whistling breath vibrant and bold in his mind.

Then Cyrus felt a gentle hand move to the side of his face, and as he lifted his own to greet it, he felt a soft kiss reach his lips. Cyrus’s eyes fluttered open to meet TJ’s. His lips were slightly parted, pink and bitten, breathing only inches from Cyrus’s. And Cyrus let a small grin cross his face. Relief crossed TJ’s, pulling him into a warm, wide smile, and the two leaned in once more, meeting more confidently, no longer held back by an unspoken question and its unknown answer. And they let the moon continue its journey through the night sky as they felt, at least for a moment, like the world was on their side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I'm going to try to update more regularly (I always say that but I still mean it)! Let me know what you guys think, your kind words and kudos really keep me going :)


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